


Children of Sassacre

by TheNarator



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Multi, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, and some plot happens too i guess, characters and ships are arranged in the order i thought of them, do not think that the order of ships or characters has any bearing on their centrality to the plot, i may add more as i remember them, lots of adorable redrom ships, no blackrom in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarator/pseuds/TheNarator
Summary: Over fifty years ago the Alternian War was ended when Earth's greatest hero, Colonel Sassacre, repelled the invasion by defeating the alien leader, Her Imperious Condescension. Now his descendants must take up the mantle of protecting the Earth when the Alternian Empire returns. But what's this? A peaceful Empress? And she wants to talk to who?The story of how Jade Harley became Empress of Earth, Feferi Peixes quelled her first revolution, Karkat Vantas became the ultimate symbol of peace, and twelve trolls and eight humans became the most screwed up family in all the known universe.





	1. Heroes Come in Pairs

\--Pennsylvania, USA--

“Alright class!” called Ms. Green brightly, startling John out of his daydream, “we only have a few more minutes, so let's review for our quiz next time.”

John groaned, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the window. He'd been so busy looking out at the edge of the woods outside that he couldn't even remember what the quiz was supposed to be on, so he supposed he should at least try to pay attention.

Ms. Green, a very young teacher with curly red hair and a smile that stretched a bit too wide for comfort, leaned on the cart which housed the overhead projector, still dutifully reflecting the shadow of their notes on the pulled-down white screen above the chalkboard.

“You get next Wednesday off of school,” she reminded them, with all her inexperienced, fresh-from-college enthusiasm, “because April 13th is?”

“Sassacre Day!” chorused six or seven of the twenty-eight students. John winced, feeling bad about the slightly disheartened look on Ms. Green's face.

“That's right,” she said, still trying to sound enthusiastic. “It's the fifty fourth anniversary of what event?”

John raised his hand, one of only two people to do so.

“Oh come on,” groaned the teacher, “we literally just went over this. John?”

“Isn't it the day that Troll War ended?” said John, trying to remember if that was the proper name.

“The Alternian War, John,” she correctly, but smiled none the less. “'Troll' was a term coined by the US military for the race of alien life forms that attempted to invade Earth over fifty years ago. Who can tell me the name of their leader?”

In the next row over, John's best friend Dave raised his hand. “Her Imperious Condescension,” he began when Ms. Green pointed to him, “Empress of the Seas, Fuchsia Ruler from Beyond the Stars, Batterwitch, Baroness, Sea Hitler of the Water Apoc-”

“The name by which she is referred to in your book, Dave,” Ms. Green cut him off, and he smirked at her from behind his shades.

“The Condesce, Ma'am,” he replied with mock propriety as the rest of the class giggled.

Ms. Green put a hand over her eyes as though to shield a migraine from the florescent lights. “When the War first began, what were humanities first weapons?”

“Boom rockets, penetrative explosives, steel cylinders of pure power-”

“Missiles!” Ms. Green interjected quickly, as though afraid where Dave was going with that, and John couldn't help but laugh with the others at how fast Dave always riled their teacher up. “Someone _besides_ Mr. Strider please tell me how we were able to develop sufficient technology to compete with an entire fleet of battleships within a few months' time?”

“The ships started falling to Earth when we blew them up,” said someone from the back.

“Raise your hand,” Ms. Green snapped, “but otherwise you are correct.

“In a worldwide military effort, a small fleet of short-range spacecrafts were created from the wreckage of Alternian ships,” she continued, at last stepping out from behind the overhead cart to stare dreamily at the American flag hanging above one corner of the chalkboard. “One brave US soldier, the illustrious Colonel Sassacre, led an assault on the Condesce's flagship. They boarded the ship, killing any trolls who got in their way, and at last found the alien leader on the ship's bridge. She was the strongest creature that had ever been encountered by humans, and she ripped half his men to pieces before his eyes, but the Colonel knew that without her the entire Alternian army would retreat. As his men held the bridge and the hall outside Sassacre and the Condesce fought a grueling battle, trading bullets and stabs, but before long the Colonel was able to wrestle away her weapon and strike her down with her own pitchfork.”

“Trident,” said Dave.

Ms. Green, who seemed to have forgotten that she was in the middle of teaching, turned to look at the class as though realizing for the first time that they were there.

“What?”

“It's a trident,” Dave repeated flatly. “Dude brought it back, you can go see it in the Air and Space Museum. It's very clearly a trident. Kinda fits with the whole Ursula the Sea Witch thing she had going on, really Disney villain chic if I do say so my-”

For the third time Dave was interrupted, this time by the final bell, and suddenly the room was filled with the sounds of students hurriedly packing away their books in order to flee the room as quickly as possible. Dave, who seemed to have magically transported all his things into his backpack without anyone noticing, waited coolly at his desk as John scrambled to stuff everything into his bag with the others.

“So are we going into the woods this weekend?” John asked excitedly as he and Dave left the classroom and headed for the school's back entrance. Neither of them lived very far, so they had agreed to walk home together everyday, at least until Dave's seventeenth birthday when he was certain his older brother would gift him with a car.

“Ridiculous question,” Dave replied, hands in his pockets and shades still firmly in place despite the dimness of the hallway. “Like I'd miss my standing date with my best bro, give up all the teenage shenanigans that abound when one paragon of coolness and one paragon of dork-ness get their primal manliness on miles from the nearest form of civilization.”

“I think there was a 'yes' buried in there somewhere,” John laughed. “Both days? Or do you have something to do with your Bro?”

“I think Bro is gonna be chill this weekend,” Dave assured him, “which means a full 48 hours of manly wildness bonding.”

John grinned, failing to resist the urge bounce up and down with excitement. “Awesome!”

\--California, USA--

The heavy metal sliding door screeched in protest as Jane forced it to scrape along the concrete-covered ground. The alley flooded with the sound of pounding dance music and the light from a hundred glow-sticks, and Jane breathed in the cool night air as she dragged the giggling Roxy from the club. The blonde was still flailing slightly to the music as Jane propped her up against the opposite wall to close the door, and when Jane turned back to her, panting with exertion, she broke out giggling afresh.

“Janey, sweetie, best-est friend evar, I luv you but you look hella redunk- *hic* ridiculous in that top,” she slurred, leaning on the wall to keep herself upright.

Jane glanced down at the admittedly plain T-shirt she'd paired with her blue skirt. Alright, so maybe it wasn't quite as flattering as Roxy's off-the-shoulder purple dress that still managed to show leg despite her black boots coming halfway up her thigh, but there remained something to be said for a traditional tight top and short skirt combination, in Jane's opinion.

Even if the top had a blue slime-ghost on it.

“Oh you're one to talk about looking ridiculous,” she shot back in mild irritation. “You're so hopelessly screwed you probably can't even see my outfit, let alone remember what I put on before we left.”

Roxy clapped a hand over one eye as though taking a vision test, but promptly lost her balance due to the sudden movement, forcing Jane to dart forward and catch her before she hit the ground.

“Alright, come on,” Jane sighed, hauling Roxy upright and taking most of her weight as they set off for the mouth of the alley. “You can tell me all about what I should have worn to eat half-solidified alcoholic gelatine off a stranger's admittedly well-sculpted abdominal muscles when we get home.”

“I fink, think, this exeriprince has been good for you Janey,” Roxy garbled loudly, leaning heavily on Jane and almost steering the two of them into a wall. “You need to get it more!” she hiccuped, then started giggling again. “Out more, I mean.”

“I'll bear that in mind next time you want to sneak away from base to go clubbing,” Jane couldn't help but giggle.

“Next time imma make you wear onna my bikinis and a paira shorts, and we'll see how those boys like you,” Roxy winked saucily, and then the two of them were both shrieking with raucous laughter as they stumbled drunkenly toward the parking lot.

Their merriment was cut abruptly short by the sound of a gun being cocked.

“There ain't gonna be no next time, you warmongering freaks,” said the man with the gun. He was tall, dressed all in black, with a thick Southern accent and a weathered cowboy hat. In one hand he held a pistol aimed at the girls, and the other held a cigar by his stubble-shadowed face. Behind him were another six men, two of them carrying assault rifles, and the others with pipes or steel baseball bats. They came out of the shadows to block the mouth of the alley, boxing the girls in.

Jane straightened up, trying to make Roxy do the same despite the way the blonde was still leaning limply against her.

“Listen buster,” she said defiantly, looking the leader squarely in his beady black eyes, “we don't want any trouble, so if you could just move along we can all go about our-”

“You ain't goin' nowhere!” shouted one of the armed cronies, taking aim with his weapon, and Jane shrank back.

“The damn government thinks they can go messing around where no human aught to be messin',” continued the leader, voice rising with indignant anger. “The building blocks of life, our very blood, making children in test tubes with no mother and no father.”

He pointed directly at Roxy, eyes flashing with fury. “You are an abomination before God!” he yelled, “you are an unnatural creature created for the sole purpose of bringing war to a peaceful world!”

He brought his gun up again, aiming it between Roxy's half-lidded eyes.

“And for that, you'll pay.”

Three things happened in quick succession. Roxy sprang forward, closing the distance between herself and the gang's leader in seemingly no time at all and grabbing his shoulder with her left hand. The gun went off, the bullet going harmlessly over Roxy's shoulder to ricochet off the alley wall and forcing Jane to drop defensively to the ground. Then Roxy made an open-handed jab upward at the man's face, the heel of her palm connecting solidly with his columella at full force.

The man in the cowboy hat fell dead to the alley floor, his nose flat against his face and the cartilage within buried an inch deep in his brain.

Then all hell broke loose.

One of the assault rifle carriers opened fire, and as Jane crawled behind a dumpster Roxy dived for the other armed man. Placing him between herself and his friend, she seized his right arm from behind with one hand and dug one of her overlong thumbnails into the crook of his elbow. He screamed and loosened his grip on his weapon, allowing her to force his finger off the trigger and point the gun at the one who was firing. Immediately the fire turned on her, but the thug shielding her took most of it, and in the time it took his buddy to realize who he was shooting Roxy had already fired off a short burst into his chest.

Letting the dead body drop but keeping a grip on his gun Roxy turned to the nearest assailant, some poor idiot with a Brooklyn Crusher, and jabbed the butt of the rifle against the bridge of his nose. He went down, swearing and clutching his broken nose, and Roxy whirled immediately to find one of the others sneaking up behind her with a pipe. She kicked him hard in the stomach, then smashed the gun longways against his face, sending him reeling back to trip over his feet and fall on his ass. Roxy then turned to the remaining two, only to find them casting aside their weapons and taking off across the parking lot beyond the mouth of the alley.

“Hey!” Roxy called, shaking her first at their retreating backs. “Cowards! Come back and face me like men!”

“I don't think being male qualifies them to face the likes of you Roxy,” Jane remarked standing up from her hiding place and brushing off her skirt. She pulled out two pairs of handcuffs and proceeded to restrain the two bleeding and blubbering survivors.

“This sucks,” Roxy complained, kicking at one terrified would-be assassin. “Alley, er, only, five?”

“You wanted to exit into an enclosed space,” Jane reminded her, clicking the last cuff into place. “They probably figured we'd come out this door, and never even suspected that they'd need more than seven. Plus we did a bang-up job of convincing them you were schnockered, so they were probably trained a lot better than this but weren't expecting you to put up a fight.”

Roxy grinned tipsily again. “I am a high functioning drink, hehe, drunk.”

Jane frowned. “Roxy, were you actually drinking?” she demanded, stepping over one whimpering zealot to get to her friend. She recoiled instantly at the sharp smell of alcohol wafting from the blonde, so much more noticeable outside in the fresh air.

“For varsamili, versamila, versailin . . . for realism Janey!” Roxy assured her as the closest assailant tried to crawl awkwardly away with his hands trapped behind his back. She kicked him again and he went still, trembling in fright.

“We need to get you back to base,” Jane sighed, peering into Roxy's face to check for obvious signs of drunkenness besides the smell. “You reek of alcohol.”

“Of course I do!” Roxy protested, pushing and Jane's shoulder playfully. “Remember that jerk who spilled like three drinks on my dress? I'm fine Janey, I could even drive!”

“You're not driving,” Jane deadpanned, and Roxy pouted.

Suddenly Jane's ear filled with the crackling of a radio receiver. “Crocker, do you copy?” said a harsh, gruff voice on the other end.

Jane pressed a finger to the receiver in her ear. “I hear you,” she confirmed, voice clinical. “The threat has been neutralized. Neither of us are hurt.”

“Good work,” said the voice, “return to base.”

“Yes, sir.”

\--London, England--

The dingy streets of London on a cold, drizzly night were no place for a lady, but that didn't seem to deter the slim, waifish girl with the bubblegum-pink pixie cut. Her ripped, patched clothes might have indicated poverty or even homelessness, but the vibrancy of their color spoke to a deliberate fashion statement. There was no one about at this late hour, not even a taxi on the street, and she hurried down the sidewalk clutching her messenger bag to her chest. The streetlamps illuminated the curling fog and made the pools of rainwater shine in the gloom.

She paused, the loud tapping of her shoes on the pavement stopping momentarily, as she reached a dim alley between two large buildings. It was just between the circles of light cast by two lamps, so everything past the entrance was lost in shadows. She squinted at it, trying to see inside, then glanced at where the street curved just ahead to obscure her from view. Then she straightened and shook her head, taking a deep sighing breath and rolling her eyes at the dark sky. She started forward again quickly, clearly intent on getting past the alley as fast as possible.

Just as she reached the far building, one of the shadows in the alley came to life. The man, for indeed it was a man, cleverly hidden just beyond the light of the streetlamps, leaped out fastened one arm around the girl's neck, pulling her tight against his chest. His other hand went over her mouth to stifle her scream as he dragged her back into the shadows and forced her up against the alley wall.

“Please, just take the bag, take anything, please!” the girl sobbed as she looked into the face of her attacker, at his cold gray eyes which were the only thing visible past his black mask.

The man opened his mouth, his rank breath hitting her nose and making her gag, but before he could say anything a great, echoing voice filled the alley.

“Unhand that young lady, foul villain!” cried Jake, leaping out from behind a large pile of cardboard boxes with pistols at the ready.

“And who are you?” demanded the masked man, drawing a gun of his own from its place tucked into his belt.

“Irrelevant!” Jake exclaimed, advancing on the criminal. “I believe I told you to let the girl go, and I would suggest you follow my instructions!”

“Or what?” he snapped, stepping away from the wall and dragging the whimpering girl up against his chest, putting her between himself and Jake's guns.

“Or we'll get your bad side,” said a voice from above. The crook jerked his head upward in alarm, but Dirk had already swung down from his hiding place on a nearby fire escape to slash three strategic cuts into the man's mask. It fell away, revealing an unshaven face and a mop of dark hair.

The now unmasked criminal roared in anger, bringing his gun up to fire blindly into the air where Dirk had been a second earlier, but Jake immediately took aim with his pistol and fired, and a moment later the man's gun clattered to the ground.

“Say 'photographic evidence',” called Dirk from where he'd landed on the crook's other side, and as soon as the man turned instinctively toward the source of the noise the alley was momentarily illuminated by the flash of a Polaroid camera.

“Now,” Jake concluded, tucking his pistols back into their holsters and putting up his fists instead, “are you going to release that woman, or am I going to have to get rough with you.”

The scruffy haired criminal didn't seem to need any more encouragement than this. He shoved the girl at Jake, sending her stumbling into his arms and almost knocking the pair of them to the ground, before barreling past Dirk to flee down the darkened street.

“Are you alright, Ma'am?” asked Jake gently once they were both steady on their feet.

Still whimpering, face stained with tears, she nodded.

“Here,” said Dirk, shaking the picture a few times before holding it out to her. “This should be enough for the police.”

“The police,” the girl repeated dazedly, taking the offered photograph and looking distractedly between the two boys. “The police, we have to go to-”

“Already on their way,” Dirk cut her off gently. His timing, as always, was impeccable, as at that precise moment the sound of sirens blared to life, no farther than two streets over.

“And with that,” Jake declared, stepping away from the woman to take her hand and lightly kiss her knuckles, “we take our leave.”

The girl turned to glance at Dirk. “Wait, what-” she began, but the place where Dirk had been standing was empty. Turning back to Jake, she found that he, too, was gone.

On a rooftop two streets away, listening to the police sirens die down as they found what they'd been called out for, Jake turned excited to Dirk.

“Wasn't that exhilarating, old chum?” Jake gushed animatedly, eyes bright. “Even you have to admit that our exploits are in fact the pinnacle of cool!”

“We are the undisputed gods of thrilling heroics,” Dirk replied placidly, his dark pointed shades revealing nothing.

He couldn't stop himself from smiling slightly though as Jake began to pace back and forth on the rooftop, gesturing animatedly as he recounted their adventure with his characteristic lavish embellishment. Even shivering, with his hair and clothes wet from the rain, he still managed to look criminally charming with his big, shining eyes, buck teeth and ridiculous accent. Dirk had thought that coming to England would make Jake fit right in, but somehow the former island-dweller managed to out-English the English people. Most of them seemed to think he was an overexcited, somewhat patronizing tourist.

At least when he wasn't saving their lives.

Suddenly the communicator in his ear buzzed to life.

“Dirk, report,” demanded the voice at the other end testily, and Dirk schooled his features to look determinedly blank. Pretending to adjust his shades as Jake continued to ramble, he pressed one thumb against the tiny device.

“No complications,” he whispered, as softly as he could, “threat neutralized, mark in good-”

“Dirk!” Jake interrupted, staring at his friend with a shocked expression.

Hurriedly Dirk dropped his hand, but the damage had been done.

“You're in contact with base?” Jake demanded, sounding hurt. “I thought this was supposed to be about us! Sacred bonding of brothers in arms! I thought we'd been as stealthy as CIA trained church mice when we left!”

Dirk's heart twisted at the broken look on his friend's face. “I have to keep in contact with base, it's the rules.”

“Dash the rules!” Jake exploded, stomping over the Dirk. “I thought that we agreed that nights like these weren't _about_ rules! We sneak out so that we don't have to answer to anyone! So that we can follow our own instincts, our own moral compasses! _Alone_!”

Dirk very decidedly did not whimper under his breath at what he knew was the entirely unintended suggestiveness of Jake's speech. Jake thought this was about camaraderie, about friendship, but that couldn't stop Dirk's face from flushing in the dark as Jake professed his desire to have him alone _._

Dirk shivered in disgust of himself. He sounded like a dirty old man.

“Give me that wire Strider!” Jake demanded, and Dirk tried not to choke as he shook his head with as much control as he could muster, not trusting himself to speak. He hated in when Jake used his last name.

“Dag nab it!” Jake shouted, and suddenly he was leaning in close enough to make Dirk's heart leap, one hand outstretched. Dirk froze as he felt Jake's fingers on the shell of his ear, face coloring with embarrassment and breathless, hopeless arousal, but a moment later he felt Jake pry the communicator out of his ear, and then he was withdrawing.

Jake threw the tiny ear bud to the ground and crushed it beneath his heel.

“Jake!” Dirk gasped, then took another breath to force his cracking voice back under control. “We need to return to base,” he insisted, trying to keep both his face and his voice even.

“No!” Jake decreed petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest like the world's most stupidly adorable toddler.

Dirk fought the urge to rub his temples, forcing himself not to show his irritation and disappointment. The evening had been going so well.

“Either we go back now, or I put you in a headlock until you pass out and I carry you.”

Jake glared at him for a moment, looking him up and down as though sizing him up. They both knew Jake couldn't take him though, in a fair fight Dirk would always win and Jake would never fight any way but fair, even if he realized what an advantage he could have on Dirk if he used it. The staring contest went on for a few more seconds, but ultimately Jake sighed in defeat and shoved Dirk out of his way, aiming his stride in the direction of base.

Kicking himself for being such an utter teenager, Dirk followed him.

\--Tokyo, Japan--

There seemed to be a universal rule that dormitory curtains must be utterly worthless in their most basic function of blocking out unwanted light. This was something Rose had decided three boarding schools ago, and the new one in Tokyo was not doing anything to dissuade her from her conclusion. She closed her eyes tightly against the invasive sun, turning her face into the bed and attempting to wiggle under her pillow.

“Rise and shine Rose!” called an extremely chipper voice much too close to her ear. Rose groaned, stretched, and sat up to face the girl standing by her bed, fully dressed and looking dreadfully awake.

“Jade, you are aware of the time aren't you?” Rose asked as gently as she could, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

“I know what time it is,” Jade answered, no less chipper. “It's time to get up! I want to be gone by the time those sleepy night guards change shift.”

“You propose we sneak out then?” Rose ventured, slipping out of bed and padding to her closet. “Did you have any particular plans, or was your aim merely to punish our handler for transferring us just after you started dating that Korean boy.”

Jade pouted, and Rose smiled a little to herself. She extracted a purple pleated skirt and simple white dress shirt, and contemplated that if the new school had nothing else going for it, it at least had sensible uniforms.

“No that wasn't what I was trying to do,” Jade informed her sourly, “though that would definitely be a bonus. Do you remember that charity drive we passed on the street the other day?”

“Toys for underprivileged children, if I remember,” Rose confirmed, buttoning up her dress shirt. She tucked it neatly into her skirt, though she noticed that Jade had left her's untucked.

“I want to go shopping!” Jade announced, former chipperness restored. “I want to go to as many toy stores in Tokyo as we can. I bet they have tons of cute stuffed animals!”

Rose smiled a little as she fastened her thin chain belt around her waist and secured her knitting needles to it. “Kawaii.”

Jade giggled excitedly. “Right! Maybe I'll even get something for myself!”

She eyed the dwindling pile of squiddle plushies on her bed critically. The collection had taken more than a few hits with all their frequent relocations, and Jade was always looking to add to it from each new place they visited.

Rose eyed herself in the mirror for a moment, then turned to Jade. “If I don't go with you, you're going to go alone, aren't you?”

Jade grinned and nodded.

“Alright,” Rose sighed, holding out her hand, “for the children, I supposed.”

Two very sleepy US military officers would be getting an earful very soon when they had to explain to their commanding officer how their two young charges had disappeared into thin air, but Rose forced herself not to dwell on their impending discomfort as she and Jade wound their way through Tokyo's shopping district in search of a toy store. Being in a crowd of this many people, without escorts or even radio contact with a superior, made Rose feel nervous, but this outing in particular had her stomach in the strangest assortment of knots. She tried not to let it show, tried to content herself with staying as close to Jade as possible without holding the other girl's hand, but there was an uncomfortable heat behind her eyes that she had come to understand meant trouble.

They had been looking for almost half an hour when Rose realized there was someone following them. He stood out because he was very clearly not Japanese; tall and white, with blond hair and a round, boyish face. He was wearing an expensive blue suit, and Rose tried to convince herself he was an American here on some kind of business and obviously hopelessly lost. He stayed with them through multiple turns though, even when Rose insisted that they double back, remaining always twenty feet behind them.

She fingered her needles nervously, trying to take comfort in the barely audible clink of unforgiving steel. The street was packed; she could puncture his jugular and trachea with one jab, then let the press of bodies hold him up while she and Jade slipped away. The way Jade moved they could probably be several yards away by the time he even hit the ground.

The man in the suit began to edge closer through the crowd. Fifteen feet away, then ten. At five feet Rose drew out one needle. She could see him reflected in the store window in front of them, edging closer with his eyes fixed on the back of Jade's head.

He reached out a hand, and Rose tensed, ready to jab.

“Can I help you?” Jade demanded, whirling around to face the man in the suit. He jumped, and then blushed, pulling at his tie awkwardly as Rose fixed him with her gaze.

“I'm sorry, young lady,” he stammered, “but you and your friend looked like Americans. I need to get to the nearest train station, and I don't speak a lick of Japanese.”

“You really aught to have considered that before you entered the country,” Rose answered waspishly. “Go back the way you came, turn right off this street, then take the second left. And get a phrase book.”

With that she grabbed Jade's hand and tugged her off down the street.

“What was that about?” Jade demanded once they were out of earshot.

Rose glanced at Jade, but didn't slow down. “I don't like it when strange people follow you.”

Jade giggled, and the noise made Rose want to grind her teeth in annoyance. “You take this job too seriously Rose,” Jade laughed, “lighten up! Like anything's going to happen to _us._ ”

“Anything can happen to anyone at any time,” Rose reminded her, then stopped walking and turned to face her friend. Jade peered curiously into her face, a hint of worry playing around her bright green eyes.

“What's the matter, Rose?”

Rose took a moment to gather her thoughts for an answer, and Jade waited patiently. It was a rhythm they'd developed years ago.

“I have an uneasy feeling,” Rose concluded at last. “Something in fast approaching, Jade. Something bad. I don't know what it is, but we need to be careful.”

Jade nodded her understanding. “Do we need to go back now?”

Rose shook her head. “No, we can get your toys. Far be it from me to suppress your philanthropist spirit. Your father would role over in his grave.”

Jade snorted. “You're probably right. Come on, let's find an ATM; I wanna get some money out before the General panics and freezes my account.”

\--Pennsylvania, USA--

“Come on Dave!” called John excitedly, bounding ahead along the forest path.

Dave kept his cool and continued his meandering pace. “What's your hurry Egbert, we've got all day.”

After a few more minutes and a bit more moaning on John's part, the duo eventually emerged into a wide clearing. The mouth of the path ran through the only opening in the ring of trees large enough to pass through, and as soon as they were both inside Dave turned and began to pull at the nearest branches, pushing them together to hide the entrance from view.

“Hurry up!” John whined, bouncing up and down in the middle of the clearing.

“Cool your space-age jet-pack Impatient McNaggypants. I'm an artist, and you can't rush a masterpiece John. Do you think Michelangelo’s best friend was all up in his grill while he was trying to paint that chapel like 'Mikey, dude, let's pick up the pre-industrial pace here'? Or did you want a whole mess of witnesses to our bro time?”

“No,” John groaned, flopping down on the ground. At long last Dave stood up, apparently satisfied that the entrance was sufficiently hidden.

John perked up. “You ready?” he asked, leaping to his feet and grinning like a madman.

Dave gave a slight, lip-quirked smile, which was the closest Dave ever got to grinning like a madman.

“Bring it on my much-blessed brother.”

John closed his eyes. Standing in the center of the clearing, he let his arms hang loosely at his sides as he breathed deeply. This was always the hardest part, summoning up that familiar feeling in his chest when he spent so much time every day suppressing it. At last something inside him caught, like grappling hook catching onto a ledge, and suddenly each breath felt deeper, bigger, more powerful. The wind whipped his hair as he breathed in and out, tugging his line this way and that, feeling the wind pulling his hair and clothes first one way and then another. The blades of grass danced around his feet and the leaves began to rustle at the sudden gale, but quickly the focus of the wind tightened, centering around John, swirling around him and pressing up. He felt his heart jump when finally, finally, his feet left the ground.

“Hey!” Dave called from somewhere bellow him, and John opened his eyes to find himself much higher up than he had expected to be so quickly. “Are you gonna bring me up there with you, or do I just get to watch you play Peter Pan all day?”

 


	2. On the Horizon

\--California, USA--

“Three,

“Two

“One,

Go!”

The gymnasium's enormous digital timer started counting out the milliseconds, and Roxy darted forward. The game was simple enough; in front of her was a single path, outline by two blue stripes. The object was to make it to the end of the path in the shortest amount of time possible, without stepping outside the lines.

The first hurdle was covered in an assortment of metal spikes, both long and sharp enough to puncture straight through flesh to pierce internal organ. Roxy did a running jump, then tucked in mid-air and did a double somersault before landing hard on her feet and continuing on.

The next one was a bit more complicated. This hurdle was higher but no less lethal, and was adjacent to a smooth, narrow wall. Roxy jump kicked off it, intent on using it to clear the obstruction, only to discover that the hurdle had been higher to disguise a row of tacks just behind it. It was too late to abort the maneuver now, so Roxy did the only thing she could do.

A small black portal, roughly three feet in diameter, opened to admit her, then closed immediately over her head. For a moment Roxy let the nasty jolt of noticing the tacks subside as she fell through nothingness. The void always had such a soothing effect on her nerves, although no one she'd ever brought through it had ever seemed to share the sentiment. She'd long ago discovered that the void was something that was only her's, and for it to be of use she had to make it part of herself.

She was the Mistress of the Void and she had to own it.

Never let it be said that Roxy couldn't fucking own it.

The void didn't stop time from passing in the real world however, and the clock was still ticking. Roxy opened another portal just below her feet and dropped back onto the course, just beyond the previous obstacle. In front of her were two rows of poles, each one fixed with a large number of thick rods and revolving rapidly, sending their appendages spinning across her path. The lowest rods were two feet off the floor, so she could go under if she felt like wasting time, but the ground was littered randomly with yet more tacks.

Over then.

She opened another portal beneath her feet and dropped herself out five feet above the first two poles, equidistant between them. She had to move quickly, jumping as soon as she landed on the sturdy rods lest the movement unbalance her. She nearly fell twice, but three feet from the end she landed atop one of the stabler poles instead, then jumped high and flipped mid-air, landing on her feet just beyond the reach of the rotations.

In front of her, not two feet from the finish line, was a wall. Too high to jump, too smooth to climb, stretching from blue line to blue line.

Subtle.

She opened a portal big enough to step through longways, and before she'd even closed it was opening another one on the opposite side of the wall, allowing her to step through both in one stride. Annoyed at the stupid busywork obstacle, she glanced at the station where two scientists were monitoring her progress on big machines and her handler was watching her with a stony-faced scowl. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Of course, she was too busy doing that to notice the thick strand of barbed wire level with her face stretched out just beyond the wall.

“Fuck!” she screamed as metal barbs jabbed her in the cheek. She dropped and rolled forward, crossing the finish line to stop the timer, then stood up clutching her bleeding face.

“What the hell was that!” roared Jane and Roxy's handler, General Whiting, a broad shouldered man with a heavily lined, squarish face and a flat-top cut of salt-and-pepper-hair. He stepped briskly out from the behind the plexiglass door to the boxed-off corner devoted to the scientific equipment used to monitor training, and marched up to Roxy as she reluctantly straightened her shoulders to look him in his beady black eyes without slouching.

“A mistake, sir,” she said flatly. Jane, who'd been watching from inside the box, winced.

“A mistake,” repeated the General, glaring down at her with his cold blue eyes. “Do we have room for mistakes in this line of work Lalonde?”

“No, sir,” Roxy bit out, fighting the urge to glare right back. She forced herself to look at the row of medals and ribbons the man always wore pinned to his immaculate uniform.

“Tell me what you should have done,” he ordered.

Roxy took a deep, steadying breath. “I should have checked before advancing,” she recited. “I should have dropped myself on top of the wall first to make sure the way was clear.”

“Next time I expect you to remember that,” spat the General, “instead of wasting all our time with lewd gestures in the middle of training.”

“Now now Whiting,” interjected a much softer voice from somewhere behind him. Whiting stepped aside and turned, allowing both himself and Roxy to face Dr. Roper, a spindly man with a white ponytail and goatee, as he stepped outside the plexiglass box, followed by Jane. His white lab coat was stained around the sleeves where he had a bad habit of dipping it into things, but his thin, pointed face wore it's usually warm smile and his periwinkle blue eyes twinkled behind his half-rim spectacles.

“Roxy did very well,” Dr. Roper told the General as he and Jane approached. “She's come a long way since she started opening portals to the Void without the aid of any equipment, and I dare say no one else you've ever had the pleasure of working with could have done what she just did.”

Whiting grunted, but said nothing.

“Jane, if you would,” Roper gestured at where Roxy was still clutching her cheek.

Jane stepped forward, and Roxy moved her hand. Jane held her palm over Roxy's cut and began to frown disapprovingly at it, trying to imagine what Roxy's cheek would look like without it. Her hand began to glow ever so slightly, barely visible in the florescent-lit gymnasium, and slowly the blood staining Roxy's face began to receded into the wound, flesh knitting itself back together and until no trace of an injury remained. Roxy sighed in relief, and Jane wrinkled her nose.

“Splendid!” Dr. Roper concluded cheerfully. “I think that will be enough for today.”

General Whiting harrumphed, but brushed past the doctor and marched from the room. Dr. Roper gave the girls one last fatherly smile and went after time, trailing his fellow scientist as he went.

Roxy turned to look out on the enormous gymnasium. It was actually huge, a converted aircraft hanger, and littered with dozens of high tech machines built to flex and test a variety of unusual powers. The double doors were in the same wall as the observation box, at the far end, and the rest of the room was all corrugated steel and florescent lights. There were exactly eight people in the world who could use this room; one had never set foot in it, and five more had simply not done so in some time. Normally full of the hum and whir of machines, it now seemed painfully still and quiet.

Seeing Roxy staring blankly out at their once-busy gym, Jane put a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on,” she said, trying to put as much cheer into her voice as she could, “let's not hang around this gloomy place. I feel like talking to some of the others.”

Jane turned and headed for the door, and with one last mournful look out at the empty room, Roxy followed her.

\--Jane's Room--

Jane sat on her bed and stared around her bedroom with the dejected air of someone who knows they have something to do but would rather sit and be bored than actually do it. Every effort had been made to make the room seem less like a converted conference room in a military base and more like the bedroom of a teenage girl you might find on any suburban street. It had a desk, a bookshelf, and a CD rack, in addition to a large four-poster bed, which had been Roxy's idea, with a pink tiara bedspread, which had been Dirk's idea. The walls were covered with posters of movies and bands, and a state-of-the-art laptop sat in front of her on the bed. Like the five similar rooms scattered throughout the base, the closest room next to it had even been converted into an adjoining bathroom.

There wasn't a lot to be done about cinder-block walls though, or the eighteen digit key-code required to open the door from either direction, but these things she was used to.

The laptop in front of her dinged, bringing Jane's attention back to pesterchum. It seemed that someone was finally online.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG]

TT: Jane, are you online?

GG: Indeed I am! I've been waiting for someone to talk to for nearly an hour.

TT: What, is Roxy not available?

GG: Yes, but . . .

TT: What? Did you two have a fight or something?

GG: No not at all! Nothing like that. It's just, well, she's the only person I've been able to talk to at all in weeks! I miss the others.

TT: Yeah I hear that one. Suddenly I find myself longing for the days when it was just the six of us in California.

GG: How are things going with Jake?

TT: Nowhere fast. So fast that we've jumped straight of the tracks. The conductor has officially lost control and we are careening into the abyss oblivious misunderstandings and overly-hormonal mistakes.

GG: You still have a horrible crush on him don't you?

TT: I don't know what to do with him Jane. He just looks at me with his big, adorable puppy eyes and I can't say no to whatever he wants. And then when I at least attempt to follow the rules he gets mad because he thought we were being rebels together.

GG: Comrades in the Revolution.

TT: Brothers in Arms.

GG: Partners in Crime-Fighting.

TT: Platonic Philanthropist Bros.

GG: Best Humanitarian Buddies.

TT: Just Friends.

GG: Ouch. He really has no idea?

TT: Not a clue. I don't know how much more of this I can take.

GG: Were we under any other circumstances, and I do mean literally any other circumstances, I would tell you to tell him how you feel.

TT: Unfortunately in this case all that will do is get me kicked off his security detail and reassigned to the Arctic Circle.

GG: I doubt you'd be sent somewhere with so little political influence. If anything they'd send you to South America.

TT: They do seem to be getting the short end of the stick, what with us in Europe, you and Roxy still in the states, and Jade and Rose bouncing around everywhere on the map that could be conceivably construed as Asian.

GG: Maybe it isn't such a bad idea.

TT: What, transferring to Brazil? Somehow I don't think that will actually go over well.

GG: No, not Brazil, nincompoop. Here!

TT: I don't think that will go over well either. Remember the hissy fit of epic proportions that got thrown when the UN found out that US intelligence was closing in on more like you and Jade? Remember how they pretty much forced us to split up so the US wouldn't have such a mad concentration of awesome cosmic power? Remember all that stuff?

GG: I'm not saying that both of you should come back to California, though you know I'd love that! :B

GG: I'm saying you and Roxy should switch assignments. She goes to England to watch Jake and you come to California to look after me! As long as there's one Alpha and one Beta to a team I doubt they'll mind, and the UN should be pleased that more of us are getting out into the world.

TT: Hmm.

GG: Hmmm?

TT: Hmm.

GG: Hmmmmmm!

TT: Hehe, you are too easy Jane. I guess that is one way of dealing with it.

GG: So you'll think about it?

TT: You just want me back in California with you don't you?

GG: Shucks buster, you've seen through my cunning plan! :B

TT: Well if you want me back so much then what can I say? You're the boss, after all.

GG: That was not an order Dirk! I'm your friend, not your boss!

TT: Sorry. I'll think about it, okay?

GG: Goodie!

TT: I guess I'm just a bit off my game. Comes from this long separation from my bro I think.

GG: You really miss him don't you?

TT: It's just not the same without someone to get up to ironic shenanigans with who really appreciates them, you know? And knowing that he's getting up to ironic shenanigans with someone else, someone who might not be appreciating it? It's all kinds of mental anguish.

GG: I know! The whole base seems empty without all of us in it. This new project was supposed to make our family whole. Instead it's tearing us apart!

TT: We're not in too much trouble yet. Trust me, the lines of communication are still wide open.

GG: Then I wish someone would communicate with Roxy! I'm getting worried about her.

TT: In what capacity?

GG: Well . . .

TT: Well?

GG: Well!

TT: You have my sincerest apologies for my earlier annoyingly vague vocalizations.

GG: I should think so! It's just this channel . . .

TT: Not secure enough for your taste?

GG: Not exactly, no.

TT: I got you. Trust me though, not all means of communication are so easily compromised. We Betas have eyes and ears everywhere. Hell we've even got a few noses out there, sniffing around for all kinds of trouble.

GG: I feel safer already.

TT: You know it.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG]

\--London, England--

Jake lay on his bed, staring at the nondescript ceiling. When he'd first arrived in London the large apartment he shared with Dirk and a number of other security personnel had seemed spacious and luxurious, especially compared to his brief stay in the military base in California. The British seemed to take things like personal comfort much more seriously than Americans; but for the omnipresent security cameras and the observation equipment set up in what should have been the dining room it was almost like living in a normal, albeit high-quality apartment. It was all so different from his island home, had seemed impossibly free and open at first, but now it felt more than anything like a prison, and he found himself wishing for the simple, overgrown lab and the miles of unexplored jungle that he had known as a child. He longed to stand on the beach and feel the waves lap at his ankles and the sand between his toes, and go swimming in the little bay where the frog temple jutted up above the water.

In short, he was bloody miserable, and he wanted to go home.

His computer dinged, signaling that someone was online. Finally! He was beginning to thank that he wouldn't get the chance to talk to anyone today, after Jane had come on and immediately been monopolized by Dirk while he was debating whether or not she was the person he wanted to confide in. Now his pesterchum application showed that Jade was available, and he quickly opened a chat window.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG]

GT: Jade! Thank goodness! I was beginning to think i wouldn't get to talk to anyone today!

GG: :(

GG: what's wrong? can't you talk to dirk?

GT: That, dear cousin, is precisely the problem!

GG: what is?

GT: Dirk! He can't seem to sort out his loyalties, and until he does i can't trust him with anything!

GG: is dirk going to join the british?! :(

GT: No, no, nothing like that. He's definitely loyal to our American handler. That's what i'm talking about! He's so loyal to these military chaps that i can't tell how loyal he is to your little family.

GT: Well, our little family, i suppose.

GT: That was one of the strangest things about being discovered on the island. I spent so much of my life thinking i was an only child, and here i find out that i've got a whole extended family!

GG: dirk is part of that family you know!

GG: you should trust him more. he might surprise you!

GT: I've had plenty of surprises from the likes of him, thank you very much!

GG: that doesn't sound good.

GT: He's lying to me Jade. He's lying to me and he's NOT lying to our handler. Just when i think he's actually up for spending some time together, outside of all these rules and regulations all these gosh-darned cameras, i find out he's got it all worked out with that stick-in-the-mud right from the start!

GG: he's only trying to make sure you're safe!

GT: I'm fully capable of taking care of myself!

GG: yeah right. :P

GT: I'm serious!

GT: How am i meant to trust him when i know everything i tell him will end up getting told to someone else???

GT: And i rather thought that i would have, you know, someone else to talk to by now. Someone more like myself, who isn't used to all this kerfuffle. Someone to go on real, top-notch adventures with!

GT: Jade, what's it like to have a sibling you can rely on?

GG: well, i'm not sure i can say it's what you're thinking of. jane and i have never really been that close.

GG: but, the six of us have always relied on each other!

GG: i'm sorry you didn't get to experience that. :(

GT: I'm sorry too jade. I'm sorry too.

GG: :( :( :(

golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG]

\--Tokyo, Japan--

Rose sat at her desk, staring at the screen of her laptop. Jade was sitting on her bed on the other side of the room, typing away as she chatted with someone on pesterchum. It was Sunday, which normally would have meant going out for a middle-aged man's idea of a fun afternoon for two teenaged girls, accompanied by no less than a dozen guards at varying distances. Yesterday's excursion, though, had gotten them confined to their room. They could have easily gotten out using Jade's space powers, of course, but those were top secret, and their hapless handler had been at a loss to explain to a very overconfident head of security why placing four guards on the door and three under the window wouldn't be nearly enough to keep the girls in.

They had agreed, however, that after he had so graciously allowed them to drop off their donation of well over a hundred dollars worth of stuffed animals to the charity drive, they would take pity on him and stay put.

Rose opened pesterchum, and stared thoughtfully at the little pink dot that meant Roxy was online. Yesterday had gotten them into a lot of trouble, and what Rose was contemplating might mean even more. Still, she couldn't stop the twinge behind her eyes, and it was useless trying to explain to their handler about her instincts, even though he knew about her powers of divination. Really, there was nothing else for it.

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering [TG] tipsyGnostalgic

TT: Hello Roxy.

TG: oh, hay sis! long time no pestre!

TG: *pester

TT: Indeed, it has been a while.

TG: so what's eatin you rosy? you usualy dont wanna chat unless somethins up.

TG: *ussually

TG: *usually!

TT: Yes, well, nothing in particular is bothering me today. I just thought it might be fun to catch up with my sister, if you're not otherwise engaged.

TG: nooo, off course not! i alwsys got time fur my bestest gurl!

TG: *always

TG: *for

TT: Shouldn't the position of your “bestest gurl” be occupied by your alpha?

TG: well shit don get me rong rosy, i luv janey and of coarse i'd die for her, but ur my sis and ilu.

TT: The sentiment is much appreciated.

TG: oh com on rosy u kno u luv me!

TT: I didn't say it wasn't returned. Of course it is. You're my sister and as such I am exceedingly fond of you.

TG: lol rose ur such a softy when it comes down to it!

TT: What can I say? I am an individual ruled by sentiment. Even as we speak my eyes are filling with the overemotional tears of a hormonal teenage girl.

TG: drama qieen!

TG: *quean

TG: *qeeen

TG: *damn it!

TT: Rest assured I understood your meaning. Theatrics are indeed a Lalonde specialty.

TG: lmao. well was ther anything else?

TT: No, I can't think of anything pressing.

TG: in that case gtg I shud probs work on some stuf, but it was grat chatting w/ u!

TT: Likewise, as always Roxy.

tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering [TG] tipsyGnostalgic

\--California, USA--

Whatever people liked to believe, Roxy was not oblivious. She was an extremely competent fighter, fully aware to her surroundings at all times, and as a bodyguard she was matched only by her fellow Betas. She was a skilled computer programmer, and she had yet to meet the hacker who could make it past her firewalls. She was an excellent friend, attuned to the moods of everyone in her social circle and nearly always able to predict what they needed before they themselves could even begin to pin it down.

She was also perfectly conscious of her sister's habits, including those concerning pesterchum and it's use.

Rose did not pester her unless she had something to talk about. In fact, Rose rarely pestered anyone unless she had something to talk about, and despite her verbosity she did not make small talk. She was also, Roxy knew, fully aware that pesterchum was a monitored channel, and that special codes would be necessary for passing certain types of information over long distances. They had both known that when Jake had first been discovered, when it had first been announced that the group was to be split up. The reference to her eyes indicated her powers of divination; they were active, giving Rose some kind of warning. She hadn't been any more specific than that though, which meant one of two things. Either the information was too sensitive to be discussed where anyone might see, or Rose's own knowledge was limited to mere instinct.

Either way, this merited a little fishing expedition.

Hacking into the US military's central communications network was not what Roxy would call a challenge, but it was enough to flex a few mental muscles that hadn't gotten exercise since General Whiting had announced that Roxy would no longer be pursuing her interest in computers on paid time (not that any of them were actually paid anything but that was irrelevant, hacking was now a hobby).

It only took a few minutes of clicking around to find what she was looking for.

Her hands were shaking as she took in the information on the screen before her, clattering against the keys and typing out nonsense that went nowhere. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she jerked open her desk drawer and pulled out the bottle of vodka she kept there without even bothering to check that the camera above the door had been voided out by her powers. Cold dread flooded her system, directionless adrenaline creeping through her veins with nowhere to direct the nervous energy except the rapid pounding of her own heart. After taking a large swig of alcohol without bothering with a martini glass, Roxy looked back at the screen and began to read over the information again, hoping against hope that it would somehow change at second look.

This was very, very bad.

\--Pennsylvania, USA--

One of the things John loved best about flying was that it made certain things impossible to hide. On the ground you could put any number of things between yourself and the things you wanted to hide from, use any number of stable surfaces as a means to support yourself. In the air there was none of that; there was nowhere to hide, no cover to duck behind, and every movement made you an open books. He liked watching Dave fly, how he could no longer just stay perfectly still and let his cool-kid persona guard his emotions. Every wild flail showed his awkwardness, every desperate attempt to right himself showed his determination to be the best, and once he got is equilibrium back the natural grace and fluidity of his movements were highlighted by making him go slower, without his normal perfect control. Dave could zip and soar, could spin and tumble, could flip himself upside down and then straighten his legs until it looked like he was standing on an invisible ceiling, stick his hands in his pockets like he could hang there all day.

“I know I'm irresistible Egbert,” Dave piped up in amusement from above him, snapping John out of his reverie to the realization that he'd been staring at Dave's rucked up shirt. “I didn't come here to let you gawk at my admittedly awesome abs, though.”

John shook his head and laughed. “As if!” he called back, soaring up to match Dave's altitude. “If we had more space I'd race you, but-”

Dave's cellphone rang.

“Aw,” John whined, glancing at where Dave had discarded his backpack on the ground, “do you think that's your Bro?”

Dave shook his head, then reached out one hand as though he could temporarily borrow John's powers and make the phone fly to him.

The phone went quiet, abruptly mid-ring.

“Huh,” John mused, descending a little to look at the the backpack. “I wonder what that was about?”

“Never mind,” said Dave quickly, righting himself in the air, “probably just a wrong number or something. Come on, I bet I can do fifty laps around the circle faster than you can.”

John won, of course. He won the first race, and then three others after it, until Dave started complaining that he was cheating. John wasn't sure exactly how he was supposed to not cheat, considering that the wind would only carry Dave as fast as John allowed it to. He called Dave a baby and a sore loser, then let him win the next round. Dave, of course, started ironically calling him pathetic for losing at his own game, and John sarcastically lamented ever bringing Dave in on his little secret.

The truth was, John loved flying with Dave. He loved the freedom of not needing to stand on the ground, of being able to go in any direction he liked at whatever speed he chose. He liked the side of Dave he got to see, the one that only came out in the air, that was for him and no one else. More than anything though, he liked having someone to share this with.

For as long as John could remember, the air around him had been his to command. As an infant he'd made his toys fly across the room into his tiny hands, flown himself out of his cradle and onto the floor, made playing cards and clumps of stray flour dance in the air for his amusement. He'd terrorized his father, never staying where he was left, and turning the house upside down with gale winds and tiny tornadoes when he was upset.

He'd been almost five when he'd first realized that not all children were like him. He'd been watching cartoons one Saturday morning, an old show about children even younger than himself getting into trouble while their parents weren't looking. The episode involved the main characters wanting to get at a jar of fresh-baked cookies, but most of the plot revolved around finding a creative way to get up onto the counter. John had been so confused and frustrated that he'd dragged his father in from the kitchen, demanding to know why the children on the television didn't just fly up to the counter, or make the wind bring the cookies down to them. That had been when his father explained that no one else had powers like John; he was the only person who could do the things he did.

From then on his life had been a mess of secrets. School could not be put off forever, and it had been difficult to learn to keep the instinct to fly whenever he liked clamped down. He'd felt so frustrated in elementary school, having to walk everywhere he went and carry things from place to place. He'd slipped up more than a few times, each incident necessitating a new school in a new location halfway across the country, and the loss of any friends he had made. As much as he hated all the moving around he was even more afraid of staying, having someone find out about what he could do who would use the information against him, and he'd had more than a few nightmares about a whitewashed lab full of whirring power tools that smelled of disinfectant and latex. It had been lonely, not being able to tell anyone about the thing which made him special, the part of himself that brought him the most joy. Online friends were safer, but the same rules applied, and it wasn't the same as having someone he could really hang out with.

Dave was different. By high school John had almost perfected his control, his practiced act of being 'normal', and when Dave had sat with him at lunch for the first time it seemed that normal might actually be in his grasp. Dave had just moved to the school district too, so they both had to cope with not having a social circle already cultivated from years ago. For the first time, John felt that he had actually found someone who could like him, who could be a real, actual friend.

Instinct, however, had taken over on the first week after Christmas break, when a patch of black ice had nearly sent him careening into an oncoming car. The wind, as it always had, had saved him, lifting him out of danger and deposited back into safety, but safety didn't seem so safe when John couldn't even bring himself to look at Dave, too afraid of his reaction. He'd tried to run, tried to get away, but Dave had chased him for three blocks and finally cornered him on the edge of the woods. There, he'd done something John had never thought he would see.

He'd told John that he didn't care. That the windy thing didn't make him a freak, if anything it made him awesome. Someone Dave would be proud to call a friend. Since that day they'd returned to the woods every weekend, found themselves a hiding spot where no one could observe them, and enjoyed the freedom brought by John's powers.

Together.

This particular Sunday, however, was drawing to a close, and the constant, continued use of his power after so much time clamping down on his control was starting to drain at his energy.

“I think I'm beat, man,” he confessed, drifting lower toward the ground. “What do you say we call it a day?”

“Fine by me,” Dave replied, stretching as the wind lowered him to the ground. He stumbled only once when the full weight of gravity hit him again, and John grinned knowingly at the slip.

“Suck it Egbert, I'm way cooler than you could ever be,” Dave flipped him off, but he was smiling that tiny little uptick of the corner of his mouth that meant he didn't mean a word.

Dave's cellphone started ringing.

Dave held up a finger as he fished it out of his backpack, letting John know to be quiet as he greeted the person on the other end and then said nothing for a few moments, just listening. John frowned, eyebrows creasing in confusion. The first ring had sounded . . . off, somehow. Like it was too short.

“Okay, be right there,” Dave assured the person on the other end, then jabbed at the touch screen to end the call.

He turned to John. “Look, I gotta go,” he told the other boy, slipping the phone into his pocket and picking up his bag. “My Bro needs me back at home. I'll catch you at school, okay?”

“Sure,” John assented, nodding. Something seemed strange about the way Dave's normally smooth brow was creased ever so slightly. It didn't look good on him.

Dave nodded simply in the universal gestured of cool-kid agreement, and the two of them shared a sweet bro fist-bump before each going their separate ways.

\--A Deserted Street in Pennsylvania--

Dave kept his stride deliberately casual as he made his way down the street. The sun was just finishing it's descent, the streetlamps flickering to life, and there was no one around to observe him. He kept his head down none the less, only looking up when he reached an old payphone.

He put in several quarters and dialed.

“This had better be important,” he snapped into the receiver, glancing around to double check that he wasn't being observed.

“ _It is_ ,” said Dirk, his voice distorted by the connection.

“Well,” Dave demanded, trying to keep his voice hushed despite the anger welling up in his throat. “What is so god-damned important that you had to contact me when you knew I'd be with John.”

“ _We may have a problem_.”

Dave froze. There was a pause on the other end, clearly waiting for a response.

“What kind of problem?”

“ _A big one_ ,” Dirk replied, voice grave. “ _And, speaking of John_.”

“What is it?” Dave demanded, swallowing the wave of bile that threatened to spill out into his mouth. “What's wrong?”

There was another pause, like Dirk was waiting for something, or else wondering how much to say. How much it was safe to say.

“ _How much does he trust you?_ ”

\--John's Room--

John sat in his bedroom, at his desk, staring at his computer. His pesterchum application showed that Dave was still not online. This was . . . troubling. Usually “something with Bro” didn't last more than an hour, and Dave would be online ready to complain about why he couldn't go to the woods this weekend or why he couldn't hang out after school as soon as it was over. It had been three hours, however, since the phone call summoning Dave back to his apartment, and there was still no sign of the little red dot which meant he was available to chat.

Something was off with Dave.

Something, unfortunately, which John could do nothing about for the time being. Making sure that the list of chums online was still clearly visible in case Dave showed up, he opened a chat window.

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG]

EB: hi jade.

GG: hey john! how has your weekend been?

EB: shrug. not very interesting. you?

GG: i have had a great weekend so far! i went shopping with rose, and gave a whole bunch of stuffed animals to charity!

EB: hehe, cool! sounds like you found a way to have a good time, even after you had to move again.

GG: yeah, it was hard at first. but i'm used to moving around! and i had rose with me!

EB: it must be so great to have a friend you've known since you were a kid. and you never have to worry about moving away, since you live together and she just moves with you.

GG: i know, it's great! :)

GG: i'm sorry you don't have anyone like that though. :(

GG: but maybe dave will be like that for you someday! :)

EB: that's a lot of emoticons jade.

GG: ;) ;) ;)

EB: hehe!

EB: anyway, i don't think dave will ever be like that for me. i'm hoping me and my dad won't have to move again, but if we did, there's no way he and his bro would move too.

GG: well, at least you could still be online friends. like you and me!

EB: yeah there's that.

EB: dave's been acting kinda weird though.

GG: what do you mean?

EB: well, i guess he was acting kind shady today. about a phone call he got from his bro.

GG: his bro?

EB: yeah, he lives with his older brother. didn't he tell you that?

GG: no, of course he did! i just didn't think . . .

EB: what?

GG: never mind, it's nothing!

EB: jade.

GG: how was he acting shady?

EB: i don't know. i guess i just got this weird vibe from him. like he was hiding something from me, i guess.

GG: everybody has secrets john.

EB: i know! i guess i was just kinda hoping that me and him weren't like that.

GG: do you tell him everything?

EB: more than I tell anyone.

GG: even me???

EB: jade, i love you, but you're a girl. there's just some stuff that's best kept between bros!

GG: :(

EB: i still tell you more than most people though.

GG: :)

EB: soooo many emoticons!

GG: i just don't know what to say to make you feel better!

GG: i'm sure it's nothing. but . . .

EB: but what?

GG: well, i think there might be some big changes coming up.

GG: for all of us!

EB: even dave?

GG: yep!

EB: what kind of changes?

GG: i'm not sure. but they will definitely be big!

GG: don't worry about it john. i think you just have to let things take their course. it will all work out!

EB: sigh.

EB: i hope you're right jade.

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG]

 


	3. Spectral

\--The Imperial Flagship--

The bridge of the Imperial Flagship was a large circular room, with two doors at the back leading to two ramps along the walls down into the open area which housed the Captain's seat and the various stations of navigation apparatuses that were not controlled by the psionic pilot. A good deal more controls had needed to be installed before this particular voyage, given that a psionic was not at the helm this time, but the bridge was still large enough to accommodate the address of eleven young trolls arranged in perfect row by blood color, in front of the enormous screen that showed the ship's position in space.

“As some of you already know,” Her Imperious Kindliness Feferi Peixes announced to her friends, “we have entered Earth's solar system and have decreased our speed to approach the planet.”

“Why _have_ we decreased our speed?” Karkat asked as respectfully as he could, fidgeting in his ceremonial uniform; white, accented with his blood color, commissioned by Feferi and designed by Kanaya.

Still, the question itself was enough to earn him a warning snarl from the very tall, very adult Orphaner standing to Feferi's left, well behind her at the corner of the screen. He was slight for an adult, but still quite large and imposing, and much older than Feferi or her circle, a relic from the days of Her Imperious Condescension. His name was Lemniscate, and he had been with them since just after the revolution, appearing at Feferi's elbow to offer respect and congratulations before the previous empress's blood had even dried on her trident. His horns went straight up before turning out to either side at a right angle near the tips, and his thick wavy hair was slicked back. His fins flared above his immaculate uniform's padded shoulders and framed his chiseled, angular face, and his cold eyes showed the violet of his blood even when narrowed in anger and annoyance.

Feferi, however, flared her own fins briefly and snarled right back at him, reminding him that it was not his place to challenge one of her own. Though she had kept as many high-ranking personnel from the old administration as she could, given how she had otherwise gutted it down to it's bones, she had made it very clear that she valued the friends who had stood with her during her rebellion much more than any highblood turncoat, and she had elevated them above all others to her newly created rank of “Dignitary” in order to reflect that. The word still sounded false and hollow to Karkat, even after nearly a sweep, and the lack of any embedded mention of violence only served to make it sound more made-up, like a wiggler playing pretend. At seven and half sweeps, technically he was a wiggler, but if he was going to avoid getting gutted in his sleep by Orphaner Lemniscate and others like him, he had to stop thinking of himself that way.

Lemniscate recognized the direct authority of a tyrianblood though, if nothing else. He bowed in deference to her, keeping his eyes fixed on her hair when she turned as though determined not to look at Karkat.

“We decreased our speed so as not to alarm anyone,” Feferi addressed her answer to the whole group, loud enough that the Orphaner knew she was talking to him as well. “Our last visit to this planet was hostile and violent, so we can expect them to be wary of our return. We need to let them know that this is a mission of peace, though it may take time to get them to believe it.”

“This is the only planet in history to ever stand against a full assault by the Alternian Empire,” grumbled Lemniscate, “led by Her Imperious Condescension, no less!”

Feferi turned back to him once more, glaring warningly at him.

“A tyrianblood,” he qualified, realizing his mistake in bringing up her ancestor, “the highest blood in trollkind, belonging only to the strongest of leaders. Surely they understand why we want _peace._ ”

Karkat couldn't help but notice that he spat the word as though it were a curse.

“We're not taking anything for granted,” Feferi continued, turning back to the group once she was sure that Lemniscate had been sufficiently intimidated from talking over her again. “We need to show them that we are committed to this mission, and that means letting there be no mistake about our intentions. No violence will be used during this visit; even if they fire on us, no counter-fire will be authorized.”

“Fef,” Eridan piped up, stepping forward from his place in line and inclining his head to her respectfully, which earned him a small smile, “are you sure that's wise? Think of the time that's passed since our last encounter with this species; all those sweeps the Condescension took gettin back home with her damaged ship, all then the time it took us to get rid of her and set things in order, changin the laws to get rid of wiolent culling and haltin the expansion of the empire, and then how long it took us to get back here, ewen if it was only a couple of perigees with a working ship. All that time they'we had to study our technology, who knows what they'we done with it? They could have much more sophisticated weapons by now, enough to take us down. Maybe ewen enough to mount a counter-strike against Alternia!”

“Don't you see though,” Feferi replied determinedly, “that's why it's so important that this mission is peaceful. We can't afford to make them our enemies, so we have to make them our friends.”

Eridan still looked worried, but stepped back in line, signaling the end of his objection.

“We have to show them they we are committed to changing as a species,” Feferi continued, obviously gearing up for an inspiring speech. “The Alternian Empire they encountered before was vicious, violent and war-like. We have to make them see that we're not like that anymore!”

She began to pace up and down the line, staring into space with a determined expression.

“We're not conquerors! We're not killers! We're not a bunch of callous, caste-ist exclusionists! That's why we have representatives from every shade on the hemospectrum-”

She panned her gaze down the line and stopped at the end to rest on Karkat.

“-and even someone who doesn't have a caste at all, unique in all the empire! The New Alternia has a place for everyone, to live in peace and harmony, and we can do the same with any other species we encounter!”

By the time she'd finished Feferi was out of breath, but she was smiling so wide that it forced her eyes shut, and most of them were smiling with her. Aradia, Nepeta, Kanaya and Terezi were practically vibrating with glee, and Vriska and Eridan each had identical smug grins at having been selected to represent an entire blood caste. Equius was beaming proudly despite the sheen of indigo sweat, and Gamzee's face seemed permanently smeared with his characteristic dopey, semi-drugged happiness. Sollux had a sly sort of satisfaction to the quirk of his lips, and even Tavros managed a shy, cheerful smile up at Feferi from his wheelchair.

Seeing that the others were all so happy, Karkat forced his face into a painful smile. He knew that Feferi had meant to be kind, making sure he knew that he was accepted despite his freakish mutant blood, but drawing attention to it still made him feel slightly sick. Even a sweep after the exposure of his secret, after that fateful wound on the battlefield that had shown everyone his hideous genetic abnormality, the color of his own blood still evoked a visceral fear of discovery, and being forced to wear it put him constantly on edge. It should have been the obstructive way that the gold-accented long-coat hung down to his ankles or the uncomfortable heat of wearing three layers over his chest that made him hate the uniform, but instead it was the bright red of the clearly visible collar, cuffs and sash that made him want to tear the whole ensemble off and burn it before anyone else saw the horrible color.

“Still have the jitters I see,” noted Terezi in the hallway outside after they were dismissed. “What's the matter Karkles? Is it being the big important right-hand of the Empress that you're not used to?”

Karkat wanted to snarl that she was way off base, but he she would see right through him. “None of your business,” he snapped without breaking stride, futilely attempting to evade her.

“Or do you still not like the delicious color of your blood?”

She wasn't going to leave him alone until she had her answer, he realized wearily. He stopped walking and Terezi grinned, knowing she'd hit the mark. It wasn't fair, Karkat thought to himself as he turned grudgingly to face her; she looked so confident, so _right_ , with her own pristine long-coat folded over her abdomen and tied with the teal sash, the teal collar of her vest sticking up, the teal sleeves of her shirt poking out around her wrists. She didn't seem half as awkward or uncomfortable as he felt, and the color looked so natural on her.

Her mouth, however, contorted into it's odd shape that meant she was confused about something as she took in the weary look on his face.

“You're not seriously still worried about that?” she demanded, the legitimate concern in her voice belying the dismissive wording of her question. “You realize no one cares right? The big secret is out, you're wearing it right now, and nothing bad has happened. Even Nepeta's giant Blueberry moirail doesn't care at this point!”

“Yeah, I know,” Karkat confessed. He looked at the floor, feeling stupid. “I guess I just spent so long thinking that my survival depended on hiding it, I started to hate it as much as I thought other people would.”

“But it's wonderful!” Terezi cackled, mouth stretched wide in her trademark manic grin. “It's like Feferi said, that color is only yours in all the universe. You should embrace it! There's no point in hating it, it's like hating yourself.”

“I guess you're right,” he replied, trying for agreement and only managing resignation.

Terezi made her quizzical twisty-mouth look again, like she wasn't sure what to make of him, and he tried to give her a reassuring smile. He must have done it at least somewhat correctly, since after another moment's contemplation she bounded past him to catch up with Nepeta, leaving him standing alone in the corridor outside the bridge.

“Geeth KK don't look like thuch a festering thack of nook puth,” came an abnormally welcome voice from behind him.

With something like relief, Karkat turned to glower at his best friend.

“Well I wasn't gonna say anything about that pulverized pile of rotting grub-guts you call a face,” he sneered amicably, “but since we're pointing out every detail of the flaws in each other's miserable hides, I might as well bring up your repugnant hoot-beast vomit scent while I'm at it.”

Sollux greeted his tirade with an equally friendly sly smirk, and they fell into step beside each other, going the opposite direction from Terezi and Nepeta. “Ath though you could thmell anything over the pungent odor of perigee-old fecal matter emanating from yourthelf. Feth up KK you look like a cornered thqueak-beatht in front of NP'th two-mouthed cat luthuth.”

Karkat frowned, considering how much to say. “I guess I'm just getting myself worked up over my blood color again like a wiggler,” he admitted grudgingly. “Maybe it's the fact that we're about the reach our destination? I know everyone on the ship knows about me, but now ever more people are going to find out.”

“God KK, like the _humanth_ are going to judge you,” Sollux taunted. “They're alienth for FF'th thake, they probably won't even know you're a mutant.”

“Why not?” Karkate demanded, perking up somewhat with interest. “Is their hemospectrum different than ours? What colors do they have?”

“Dunno,” Sollux admitted, unconvincingly feigning disinterest. “We don't actually know much about them exthept that their phythiology ith functionally equivalent to a troll'th.”

Karkat glared to hide his confusion. “Thank you so much for that perfectly clear and understandable nugget of wisdom. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Sollux sighed in exasperation, but answered him anyway. “It meanth that they’re basically the thame as uth KK; two armth, two legth, a head with all the right numbers of orifitheth. That's about the ekthtent of our knowledge though.”

The he grinned evilly, showing off his oversized fangs. “That and they've got a bunch of weird powerth we don't underthand that are tho badath they wounded the Condeth bad enough for uth to kill her, and they've had over twenty thweepth to fuck around with our technology.”

“Brilliant,” Karkat grumbled, for lack of any other reply, “we're hurtling through space on our way to attempt to make peace with a super-powered alien species that kicks so much ass it can topple an intergalactic empire without even bothering to develop space travel on their own, and we have no idea what they look like, what their culture is like or whether they're going to take one look at us and shoot us down with our own salvaged weapons.”

“Thee what Lemnithcate'th got hith bulge up hith nook over?”

“Suddenly I feel a lot closer to the asshole.”

\--Later--

Pacing back and forth in random corridors of her flagship was unbecoming of an Empress. It didn't stop Feferi from doing it, having very nearly worn through the carpet in her own respite block, and only after checking to make sure no one was watching. Her gastric bladder seemed to be full of flutterbugs, and nothing except constant motion would stop their incessant flapping.

She wanted to put this off. She wanted to turn around and go home, go back to her comfortable and well-ordered empire, or maybe just let the ship orbit this system's biggest gas giant for a bit while she got back her nerve. There was the very real chance that contact with the surface wouldn't even be made before they were blasted out of the sky. Even if they managed to make contact there was no reason anyone on Earth would be willing to hear them out, let alone engage in any kind of formal negotiation.

Even if they made contact with someone willing to talk, she would still have to face _him._

Colonel Sassacre; the leader of the only civilization to stand against the Alternian Empire, and the only creature to wound a tyrianblood besides another tyrianblood. He was the reason that she was empress now, he had practically done her job for her by injuring the Condesce so badly she'd had to limp home in a damaged ship to commune with her lusus. Feferi had only been able to defeat her ancestor because the real battle had already been fought, and she knew that she would never have had the strength to do what that human had done.

She badly did not want to face him, and she knew she wasn't alone in that. Facing him, however, would be her job and no one else's, and even knowing that her friends were by her side it would still have to be her that addressed the Colonel, one leader to another.

She didn't know what he would do. She had no way of predicting how he would react. Would he believe that the descendant of his greatest enemy truly wanted peace? Would he even recognize her authority as empress, as young as she was? Would he decide that she was just too much of a potential threat and kill her on the spot?

“Fef?” came a voice from behind her, startling her out of her thoughts. Eridan stepped out from behind the corner he had been peeking around, his face the very picture of a concerned moirail.

“What's wrong Fef? Do you wanna glub about it?”

Feferi gave him a tired smile. “It's nothing,” she assured him, try to show it on her face, “I'm just being a silly worry-whale.”

Eridan frowned. “You do realize we actually got somethin to worry about don't you?” he asked, sounding irritated. “The most powerful bein in all the cosmos, to be precise, who you're plannin to waltz right up to like there isn't ewery chance he'll just turn you into fish food.”

 _This_ again. Feferi matched his glower.

“This is too important Eridan!” she said, voice as firm as she could make it. “I'm not backing down when we're so close!”

“I'm not askin you to giwe up,” he shot back, “just giwe a little more consideration to your own safety, is all! You're the fuckin empress Fef, you can't afford to be takin needless risks.”

“It's not needless!” Feferi retorted, hands balling in to fists at her sides. “Didn't I just explain how important this mission is for us? For Alternia? The lives and well-being of our people are more important! We have to think of them!”

“That's what I'm tryin to do!” Eridan yelled, voice rising in anger. “I'm thinkin of what's gonna happen if you die! What do you think will become of them, Fef, without any empress to lead them? You gotta surwiwe, for the sake of the empire!”

“How can you be so shellfish!” she demanded, slipping into her old wiggler habit of using fish puns in her anger. “How clam you shell me to put my life above theirs? What aboat my responsibility to them!”

“That responsibility is precisely the point, your Imminence,” said an oily voice from the shadows.

Both Eridan and Feferi turned, in time to see Orphaner Lemniscate step into view. He stood tall, hands clasped behind his back and face smoothed into a benevolent, if somewhat haughty, expression.

“Since taking power you have implemented considerable change in the empire,” he continued calmly and gently. “We have all benefited greatly from your infinitely kind and generous policies, but there is no guarantee that your views will be shared by your successor. You must think of who would be there to uphold those policies if you were to be . . . removed from the equation.”

“Um,” said Feferi, anger deflating. Adults always made her feel so small, so wigglerish with her unchecked emotions before their stoic confidence. “I . . . suppose I can see the wisdom in that.”

Eridan, however, didn't seem the slightest bit less angry, if a bit more controlled than before.

“Of course, you're still the empress Fef,” he interjected, lips pulled back to expose his teeth as he eyed the Orphaner. “The final decision still rests with you. It's whatewer you think is best.”

“Thank you both for your wise council,” Feferi concluded as firmly as she could, trying to avoid an argument. “I think I will return to my respite block and think on this matter further.”

“As you wish, my Lady,” smiled the Orphaner, bowing slightly as she passed.

“ _My_ Lady,” Eridan echoed, mirroring the older troll. Feferi didn't fail to notice the emphasis that he put on the word 'my.'

Forcing herself not to look back, she marched off down the corridor, leaving the two violetbloods behind her.

\--Later--

“How could she do that to me!?” Eridan raged, storming from one end of Karkat's respite block to the other.

Karkat rolled his eyes and leaned back in his desk chair, turning slightly to drape one arm over the back to look at his friend. The block was about twice as big as the one he'd had at home, and even after perigees aboard the ship it was still odd at times to turn away from his husktop to find his recooperacoon much farther away than it should have been. Previously this block and others like it had been reserved for seadwellers and subjuggulators, the highest ranking officers on the ship, but now those clout positions belonged to a collection of seven-sweep-olds from across the spectrum.

It still didn't make swallowing hoof-beast shit from the collection's only violetblood any easier.

“Look man, she's just trying to prove a point,” Karkat explained. “You know how much she wants everything to go smoothly, alright? If they shoot at us and then we shoot back it's just gonna turn into another firefight, and that's exactly what's she's trying to avoid.”

“Why, for once, can't she just take my fuckin adwice?” Eridan demanded, stopping to look out the block's large private porthole, another luxury afforded to few others. “We'we been moirails for how long? Almost two sweeps now? And in all that time, I don't think she's listened to a damn thing I'we said ewen once!”

Karkat sighed, as rolling his eyes again would be pointless if Eridan wasn't look at him. “Dude, I get it, okay? She's your moirail, and you're not-so-secret flushcrush, but whatever. You don't like the idea of her going into danger with the explicit plan of doing nothing to defend herself. It's nerve-wracking; I'd probably feel the same if I were in your boots. But she's the fucking empress, alright? She knows what she's doing, and she can handle herself.”

“It's not about that Kar!” Eridan protested, whirling around to glare petulantly at Karkat. “You know I'd be the last person to ewer call Fef weak. It's how she let that . . . that _underling_ disrespect me like that!”

“Is that was this is about?!” Karkat snapped, turning to drape his legs over one side of the chair and lean more heavily against the back. “Some stupid pissing contest?! For that you practically forced your way into my block and said you needed to talk, some grubfucking tantrum?!”

“It's not a tantrum!” Eridan insisted, stamping his foot as though in blatant effort to contradict himself, like the way the pitch of his voice had jumped wasn't proof enough.

Karkat raised one eyebrow skeptically.

Eridan cleared his throat, straightening his posture as he tried to get himself back under control. “It's not a tantrum,” he repeated, this time keeping his voice even, “it's a legitimate concern ower the appallin lack of respect I get around here. I'm one of the highest rankin officers there is, one of coddamn empress's inner circle! I deserwe more than getting talked ower and contradicted like a wiggler who don't know my horns from my shame globes!”

Karkat snorted. “I hate to break it to you bro, but you _are_ a wiggler, and you're damn sure acting like one. Respect is earned, but honestly the only person whose respect you should care about is Feferi's. And that's what you're gonna lose if you keep acting like it's a federal fucking issue every time some Orphaner ten times your age doesn't bend down and kiss your feet.”

“It's not just me though,” Eridan plowed on, regardless of Karkat's interruption, “it's a symptom of a larger problem. If they got no respect for me, who spent sweeps doin the work that earned all of them their titles, then what respect are they gonna hawe for you? And for all the rest of Fef's pet lowbloods?”

That earned him a scowl, and he backpedaled, looking flustered. “I'm just sayin, it shows a lack of respect for the system. Fef's system!”

“A system that hasn't been fully implemented yet,” Karkat continued, picking up where Eridan left off. “A system that's still figuring itself out. A system that still doesn't have a purpose besides just holding itself together, at least until we prove that we can pull off this whole peace thing.”

“A system that's newer gonna work without a chain of fuckin command!” Eridan finished, growling in anger.

Karkat ran his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Look bro,” he said at last, “I know it sucks right now. But the thing is, it'll pass. This is all still new, things will get better. You'll outlive this guy, all these guys; sure they're older than you, but that just means they're closer to death. I on the other hand have no fucking clue how long I'll live, so I'll settle for them not gutting me in my sleep and leave it the fuck at that.”

Eridan stopped, looking startled and a bit hurt, and Karkat frowned in confusion.

“What?” he demanded, somewhat defensively. “What did I say?”

Eridan began to fidget, looking anywhere but at Karkat. “You don't gotta bring it up like that,” he said uncomfortably, “you bein a mutant and all. I know you got no idea what your lifespan is. Fuck, I'm . . . I'm sorry, okay?”

Karkat bit the inside of his cheek, looking down. Fuck. Now he felt like shit.

“It's okay,” he conceded, trying not to make it sound too much like a surrender. “Don't worry about it. Fuck, just, don't get all sentimental on me okay? The last thing I need the is your moirail the fucking empress thinking you pity me or something.”

Eridan grinned, previous awkwardness forgotten. “Well you are awfully pitiable Kar,” he purred, waggling his eyebrows.

He stopped grinning when Karkat threw a coding manual at his face.

\--Meanwhile--

The Imperial Flagship had several long hallways that led nowhere but the side of the ship, and each of them ended in an enormous porthole through which one could watch the stars flick by as they sped through space. Vriska had taken to looking out these as often as she could. It wasn't the view from the atop the cliffs where she used to FLARP with her scourge sister, nor was it the ocean where she had enjoyed playing pirates, but it was a novel enough sight and seemed a good way to signal she wanted to be left alone. The older crew were all a bit too unused to the presence of young trolls that they couldn't get away with pushing around, and the empress's circle all had their own fascinations with various aspects of adult life, so most people knew not to bother her.

Some people, however, could never take a hint.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Kanaya casually, coming up beside Vriska to look out at the stars as well. Vriska knew she wasn't really seeing them, was too focused on the conversation she was preparing to have, but it only made her more determined to ignore her companion in favor of the view.

“Oh, you know,” she deflected vaguely, knowing it would derail Kanaya's train of thought, “planning. You know me, so many irons in the fire.”

Kanaya didn't say anything for a moment, and when she finally spoke her voice was cautious. “I had hoped that your . . . planning, would cease once we left the homeworld.”

“I can never stop planning,” Vriska replied automatically, tossing her head so that her hair flipped slightly, “a girl like me can't afford to.”

“And what kind of girl are you?” Kanaya asked in reply, probing, as always, for the answer she wanted. “You no longer have a lusus to feed. Your responsibilities have changed. Don't you think now is a time to reinvent yourself?”

Vriska smiled, mostly to herself but knowing Kanaya could see. “I like myself just the way I am. It's one of the keys to happiness you know, accepting yourself as you are.”

“A scheming, conniving bitch?”

Vriska laughed at the paltry attempt at an insult. “I'm a highblood Kanaya,” she explained slowly, as though the jadeblood was stupid, knowing it would drive her up the wall. “Scheming and conniving are in my nature.”

“What about the empress?” Kanaya retorted, a little too quickly, a little too much like an argument. She didn't want an argument though, not this time, and Vriska could tell. A moment passed in which neither of them said anything, Kanya trying to gather her wits, Vriska contemplating the string from which her little toy dangled.

She tugged.

“What about her?” Vriska asked, in a sugary parody of perfect innocence.

“Feferi is highest of the high,” Kanaya reminded her, almost pleadingly, “and yet she is entirely peaceful. Violence is not inescapably inherent to the higher castes.”

“She's a special case,” Vriska waved her off, “destined for some greater cosmic moirallegiance than a whiny wizard wannabe.”

She could almost hear Kanaya's expression turning plaintive, throat tightening, eyes prickling with tears. Her thick lashes would flutter as they glazed over with sparkling, translucent jade, though Vriska knew that if she were to turn and look the other troll's dark lips would never quiver. She was no lowblood. She had pride, and would cling to it even as Vriska moved in for the kill.

“I'm not like her.”

Kanaya contemplated her for a moment. For the first time something about her seemed to shift, and Vriska could hear the almost undetectable shifting of fabric as Kanaya straightened. She turned, forcing her features not to show her confusion, to find that Kanaya wasn't blinking back tears, nor was her expression that slightest bit melancholy. She looked . . . angry. Fierce, almost. She wasn't so much pleading as glaring, and as Vriska watched her hard eyes narrowed even more

“No, you're not.” she concluded, then turned and walked briskly back the way she had come.

\--Later--

It was late, almost eleven in the morning, when the empress left her respite block again. She had taken off her ceremonial garb, modified slightly from the “Dignitary” uniforms by way of a much shorter jacket and a short skirt with a long train instead of pants. She was wearing much plainer clothes now, like the ones in which she had challenged her ancestor, but she clearly had not been in her recooperacoon and the way she glanced nervously about suggested sneaking off to do some more insipid pacing.

Her fear was palpable.

It was obvious she was having second thoughts. Fearsome though the Condescension had been, someone who could injure her to the point of necessitating a long and humiliating retreat was even more fearsome. The wiggler might actually have believed herself capable of facing the legendary Colonel given how far she'd come, but for all her sickening naivete she was not actually a fool.

She knew that she had no business claiming to have defeated her predecessor fairly, in an accurate test of their respective strengths. She was not stronger than the Condesce, she never had been and she probably never would be. The only reason she had won was because circumstances had converged in her favor; she had been too young to be considered a real threat, as had been her mongrel crew, and receiving the sloppy seconds of a much stronger warrior had been all that was needed to ensure the success of her little sneak-attack.

But lightning didn't strike the same place twice. The Colonel would not be so vulnerable. She would not be so lucky again.

This challenge would determine her worth as a leader. It would be interesting to watch what she would do next.

From the shadows, Orphaner Lemniscate watched.

 


	4. Come Together

****\--Pennsylvania, USA--

Despite having a quiz on Monday, a surprisingly small number of people turned up to school. It was likely that most of them had gotten a head start on the celebration that would commence on Wednesday; many would be going to Baltimore, New York, or Washington DC to watch the Sassacre Day Parades, and still more would be taking advantage of the drop in airline fares in honor of international relations to visit other countries. The holiday had never held much significance for John. He and his father had always celebrated it, but they did so mainly because it was almost easier to join in the festivities than avoid them. Even in the most conservative neighborhoods where they'd lived, Sassacre Day had always brought barbeques, block parties, and fireworks.

One of the few people in attendance was Dave. He didn't seem very pleased about it though, and didn't turn up until just before class began, giving John no chance to talk to him. During the quiz he kept his head down, and when John tried to get his attention Ms. Green snapped at him to keep his eyes on his own work, and he didn't dare try again during the rest of class.

When the bell rang Dave didn't wait by his desk like he normally did, instead heading immediately out into the hall and forcing John to shove his books haphazardly into his bag in order to follow.

“Hey, wait up!” John called at Dave's retreating back, trying to zip his backpack shut as he walked.

Dave stopped, but didn't turn around right away. His head was bowed, and he had a white-knuckled death-grip on the one strap of his backpack he had slung over his shoulder. John watched, caught between fascinated and unnerved, as Dave slowly, stiffly turned around.

“What's up?” John asked, a little nervous, when Dave was finally facing him.

Not that Dave was actually looking at him. He seemed far too interested in the floor, scuffing at the tile with the sole of his shoe, then erasing the black mark he left with his toe.

“Nothing much,” he replied blandly, every line of his body tense but forced into a slouch. “This and that. A dude like me has a lot going on at any given time, Egbert.”

“Yeah but what's _up_ with you man?” John repeated, slinging his backpack onto his back and crossing his arms over his chest. “You won't even look at me. Is something wrong?”

At that Dave looked up, but as soon as his eye-line was level with John's he suddenly became far more interested in the nearest row of lockers. “It's nothing. Really, it's not a big deal. It wouldn't even be worth mentioning if you hadn't brought it up. Total non-issue.”

“Brought what up?” John demanded. “What issue?”

“No issue,” Dave insisted, “no issue whatsoever, my life is completely devoid of issues, a blank fucking slate up in here, what I wouldn't give for an actual legit problem to come along and break the monotony.”

“Dave,” John deadpanned.

“We're gonna have to maintain radio silence for a few days,” Dave blurted, still looking anywhere but at John. “No phone calls, no pester-chum, just lay off the electronic communication for a bit.”

“Why?” John asked, perplexed. “What's so bad about pester-chum?”

“I don't know if you've noticed, but it's kind of a lame chat client,” Dave rambled, “pop-ups and spy-ware and I'm pretty sure it gave my a Trojan virus or some shit, but that's not the point. The point is that we're both just gonna have to hang on our own for a while.”

John frowned, squinting at Dave's impenetrable shades, which themselves had been a gift from John at his last birthday. He had to admit they looked better than the stupid pointy ones he'd worn when John had first met him, but now he almost regretted the present, as it helped conceal whatever Dave was hiding now.

“What's this about?”

“Nothing,” Dave assured him, glancing restlessly from one end of the hallway to another. “Just a couple of problems with bro. It's not a big deal.”

“Okay, then, do you wanna meet up some time?” John suggested, trying to ignore the prickle of worry down his spine at Dave's evasiveness. “We could go to the woods. Maybe on the off-day?”

“That doesn't work for me,” Dave shook his head taking a step back.

“Well then what about next weekend? I mean, by then your bro's gotta-”

“Look I gotta go,” Dave cut him off, practically calling it over his shoulder as he turned and made for the front exit, instead of their usual side door.

John reached out a hand, intent on calling him back, but all too quickly Dave whipped around a corner and disappeared from sight.

\--London, England--

Never let it be said that Jake English was a coward. Growing up alone on an island, thick with dense jungle and populated by a variety of wild animals, did not leave room for fear. He had fought to survive; to feed himself, to stay safe, to keep his mother's lab and all it contained secure. Risking life and limb was something he'd had to do every day, and danger was practically his middle name. Jake Danger English, Adventurer Extraordinaire.

The “real world,” as people around him kept calling it, had it's own dangers though, and these he had far less experience with. Dealing with people was different from dealing with predators, with sharks and cougars and massive snakes. He hated having to answer questions or go through drills or regurgitate useless facts for tutors when all he wanted to do was sleep, or run, or get into a fight. He had to take into account things he'd never considered before, and as much as he hated to admit it, had to deal with wanting things it had never occurred to him to want before.

Wanting things from people when didn't know how to get them was the single biggest challenge he'd had to face yet in his life.

Jake wanted things from Dirk. He wanted know what Dirk was hiding from him, and why he was doing it. He wanted to know why Dirk didn't trust him, and how he was supposed to trust Dirk if it was only going one way. He wanted to know why Dirk's loyalty to their handler meant more than their friendship, and what that friendship did mean to him, if anything.

He was tired of feeling alone and confused. He wanted answers, and more than anything he wanted what he'd seen in California. He wanted the easy way his cousins and Dirk's fellow Betas had talked to each other, how they'd shared everything and supported each other and been such obviously important parts of each other's lives. He hated feeling like Dirk's life wouldn't be any different without Jake in it.

There was only one thing for it. He had to take Jade's advice.

He found Dirk on the roof of their apartment building, sitting on the edge with his legs dangling over the side. He wanted to walk silently up to him, sit down next to him before the other boy had a chance to respond or escape, have a quiet talk like he'd seen in movies. Dirk's hearing was too good though, he sprang to his feet the moment he heard Jake coming, and Jake couldn't help but feel that it wasn't for him to intrude on a private moment, that he had interrupted Dirk's contemplation with the chore of having to deal with his mark.

Jake swallowed, straightening as much as he could and affixing his normal cheerful smile in place. “Mr. Strider,” he began winking and giving Dirk his customary double-pistol gesture of greeting, “I'm pleased that I found you up here and not out and about.”

“'Sup English,” Dirk replied, inscrutable as ever behind his shades, “how can I be of assistance on this fine, albeit typically overcast, London afternoon.”

“I'm glad you asked. I've got something of a bone to pick with you Strider, and I have done for some time now.”

If this answer made Dirk nervous or uneasy he didn't show it. “What seems to be the problem bro?”

Jake paused, wondering how to phrase his question. He didn't know much about subtlety, was miles behind Dirk and his constant machinations, but he knew that how he began would shape the rest of the conversation. His next question had to be phrased carefully, had to strike the right tone without giving away too much. He had to handle this with care, and just a little bit of manipulative finesse.

“Dirk, how can you expect me to give you the unconditional trust that seems characteristic of the rest of our group when I know that you're nigh constantly lying to my face?”

Nailed it.

For a beat Dirk didn't say anything, and if Jake could have seen his eyes he was sure the other boy would have blinked in disarmed bemusement.

“You are the master of subtly English,” he conceded at last, “it is you.”

“Thank you,” Jake responded politely, not seeing any sense in neglecting propriety. “However, the question was not merely meant as a demonstration of my humble attempts to rival your skill in clever machinations.”

“I figured,” answered Dirk, one hand coming up to rub at his temples. “Look, Jake, I don't suppose I could persuade you to believe that there are some things you're just better off not knowing.”

“No Dirk,” Jake deadpanned, feeling rather proud of his own confidence and determination. “You really couldn't.”

“Look Jake, in all seriousness, you know you can trust me right? Whatever secrets I may or may not be keeping, I'd never let anything bad happen to you, and neither would anyone else in this family. Our family.”

The sincerity in Dirk's voice struck a chord with Jake, and for a moment he was tempted to give up his line of questioning. Whatever his degree of trustworthiness on an interpersonal level, he knew that Dirk was planning nothing nefarious or diabolical. They were also, as Dirk had mentioned, family; bonded by a lineage like no other and part of a group as close as any pack he'd ever seen in the wild. Still, the fact that Dirk needed to fall back on Jake's most basic notions of his morality was troubling in itself.

Jake shook his head, determined not to lose focus. “I want answers Dirk, not more excuses. I demand satisfaction from you.”

It might have been a trick of the light, but Jake could almost have sworn that Dirk's stoic face colored at that. “I'm not trying to make excuses,” he argued, “I'm trying to look out for you. I just need you to trust me when I say that I've got your back.”

“Which circles back to my original inquiry,” Jake pointed out, rather reasonably. “Why, and indeed how, should I trust you, when you don't seem to have the slightest bit of trust for me?”

“I do trust you,” Dirk protested, eyebrows knitting together almost imperceptibly above his shades. “I trust you with my life Jake, every single night.”

“You know gosh-darned well that was not my meaning Strider!” Jake exploded.

He stomped over to where Dirk was still standing by the edge of the roof, closing the distance between them until he was right up in Dirk's face. This close he could almost see the shape of Dirk's eyes, detect a hint of their orange color, but with his shades in the way it wasn't enough. They were yet one more barrier between himself and his should-be best-friend, and before he could stop himself Jake was plucking them off Dirk's face and tossing them carelessly aside.

“No more secrets,” Jake demanded. “Tell me what it is you haven't been telling me, or so help me-”

Jake never got to finish his threat. Before he could come up with some creative means of making Dirk pay for his continued obstinance he felt Dirk's hands seize the front of his shirt and pull him roughly forward. He was already so close, his mouth already so near Dirk's, that it didn't take much effort to connect them.

It felt odd, kissing Dirk. He had spent so long thinking of Dirk as family, like a brother, that there was something strangely taboo about the whole thing that did absolutely nothing to quell the excited squirming of Jake's stomach. He had never kissed anyone before, but he had the vague idea that the unforgiving stiffness of Dirk's clenched mouth against his was not ideal. He of course had not been expecting it, so his own mouth was slack with surprise as his mind fought to link Dirk's words with his actions. All in all it was nothing more than a tense press of one pair of inexperienced lips to another, more an interjection than anything, and it was over almost as soon as it began.

Once he had been released Jake gaped. He knew he must look like a gormless idiot, standing there with his mouth hanging open like a codfish, but he had no idea what to say, what to do next, and Dirk was staring at him with wide eyes behind his sunglasses. Jake worked his jaw, mouth flapping uselessly in a fruitless effort to form words, but as he watched Dirk's expression morphed from desperation to confusion to something like regret.

“I'm sorry,” he blurted, turning away, “I . . . I'm sorry.”

Jake shook his head, trying to make his voice work, try to say something, anything, but before he knew what was happening Dirk was an orange and black flash-step blur, and then he was completely gone.

Two and a half hours of wandering aimlessly about the city rooftops, three unsuccessful attempts to contact Jade and even one desperate, though equally fruitless, effort to speak to Jane left Jake with no more answers than he had started. His mind was a cacophony of thoughts and emotions that he wasn't used to dealing with. His head ached, his gut was in knots, and no matter how many times he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand his lips stalwartly refused to stop tingling.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he was _supposed_ to do. He didn't know what Dirk _wanted_ him to do. Everything about the situation seemed strangely surreal, and none of it was at all familiar. If only he had some clue as to Dirk's intentions in kissing him, then maybe he might be able to figure this out, but as usual Dirk's behavior gave away less of his emotions than the cold, hard plastic of his shades.

Jake meandered back into the apartment via the door on the roof with the thought that he only really had one other option. He would try, again, to talk to Dirk face to face. They would straighten this out. He would explain that he just couldn't read Dirk as easily as Dirk seemed to read him, and however uncool it may be the other boy would simply have to spell it out for him.

He returned to find an oddly empty dining room. Most of the equipment had been packed up and was sitting in a neat row of suitcases, and the normal assortment of British and American agents were not bustling about like they normally were. Instead their American handler, a pale, nervous sort of man in his thirties, was seated at the newly vacated table.

“Is something happening sir?” Jake asked, with the usual politeness he had found always got the best results from anyone older than himself. “Why has everything been stowed away all neat and tidy? And where has Dirk gotten off to, assuming of course that you know?”

The man ran a hand over his slicked back hair and smiled wanly at Jake. “I'm afraid there's been quite a bit of activity while you were, um, out, Mr. English,” he explained. “Mr. Strider and I had a little chat about his assignment here, and, well, I have some news.”

“News?” Jake repeated, nonplussed. “I just spoke with Mr. Strider not three hours ago. What developments could possibly have occurred since then?”

“Several, actually,” came the vague reply. “I would imagine that your previous conversation with Mr. Strider had a very large effect on mine. He approached me, you see, about transferring back to California, to switch marks with the Ms. Lalonde that currently resides there.”

“Switch marks!” Jake cried in alarm, making the poor agent jump. “You mean leave me behind to go be with Jane instead! Let Roxy have me!”

“Um,” stuttered his handler, “well, uh, yes, in fact. That was the general idea.”

Jake swallowed, trying hopelessly to keep his cool. He felt like cold water had been dumped on his head and was now pooling uncomfortably in his stomach, and it contrasted horribly with the hot lump that seemed to be forming in his throat.

“Will that be allowed?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. “I mean, will you approve the transfer?”

“Well that brings me to my other bit of news!” the man pipped up brightly. “You will both, actually, be going back to California. He is already on a plane as we speak, and you will follow on the next available flight.”

“What the devil for?” Jake asked, suddenly confused again.

“You are being recalled due to an emergency.”

“Recalled? Why? What kind of emergency?”

The man looked at the table, a frown creasing his young face. “Maybe it's best if I let some of the staff at our destination explain.”

\--Tokyo, Japan--

For the second time in four days Rose was awakened by someone standing resolutely at the side of her bed. This person, however, was much bigger than Jade, tall and wide enough to block out the light from the window streaming through the useless curtains and cast her bed into shadow. She had actually awoken when he'd first entered her and Jade's room, but she waited to stir and sit up, waited to see if what he would do if he didn't realize she was looking.

After a few moments of standing there blocking out her light the man reached out to tap her shoulder. Immediately Rose's hand shot out from beneath the covers, reflexively seizing his wrist before he could touch her. She cracked one eye to look at him without lifting her head from the pillow, to find him staring at her, wide-eyed and bit startled. He was, as she'd suspected by his shadow, very large, at least 6'5'' and broad in the shoulder. His dull blonde hair was buzzed into a flat-top, and though he was wearing a military uniform she didn't recognize him.

“I gentleman knocks before entering a lady's room,” she informed him curtly.

He recovered quickly, a practiced mask of professionalism sliding back into place. “Ms. Lalonde, you need to come with me.”

“And why is that?” she inquired, sitting up in bed. Though she was wearing a nightgown she still drew the covers up to her chest, a reminder that she wasn't wearing a bra and was in fact still indecent by the strictest standards.

The man had the decency to look ashamed of himself. “Get dressed please, ma'am, and come with me.”

“Where is my handler?” Rose asked, not moving an inch.

“Please ma'am,” the stranger repeated, “I'll leave for the two of you to get dressed, but then you must come with me. Your current assignment is being suspended and you are being recalled to the US. Your handler left during the night to make preparations, and you are to immediately follow.”

“Why are we being recalled?” Rose demanded, somewhat more forcefully than before. “I don't appreciate being kept out of the loop.”

“I'm not authorized to explain any more to you at this time,” he insisted, somewhat pleadingly. “I'm sorry ma'am, I really am, but you really do need to come with me.”

Rose eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then nodded, but waited for him to sheepishly exit the room before slipping out of bed to shake her Alpha awake.

The trip to the airport in an unmarked black car seemed to take twice as long as it should. They managed to beat rush-hour, but even in the light early morning traffic they seemed to be going much too slow. Rose kept a firm grip on her needles, looking out the window as Jade chatted amicably with the unfamiliar soldier in the front seat, scanning the streets for something she couldn't seem to identify. The heat behind her eyes had been building steadily since Saturday, and by now it seemed incredible they weren't sending out a faint glow. There was something out there, she was sure of it, and it seemed somehow closer and farther away than ever. The danger wasn't out on the street, was yet some great distance away, but the threat was drawing ever nearer.

“Rose?” Jade asked quietly, drawing Rose's attention away from the window.

Rose took in her friend's worried face, but somehow couldn't bring herself to meet it with a reassuring smile. “Something's happening,” she murmured, “something's going to happen. I can feel it.”

“That's what you said before,” Jade whispered, leaning in to talk in hushed voices. “You said 'something is fast approaching.' What does it mean?”

Rose shook her head, little more than a twitch as she glanced at the two adults in the front of the car. “I don't know.”

“This thing?” Jade asked, “this something that's coming? Can you tell . . . does it mean us harm?”

Rose bit her lip a moment, thinking. There was an oddly conflicted feeling twisting about in stomach. The heat behind her eyes was not something that boded well. That heat meant a threat, something that held the potential to harm her or her family. The potential, yet . . . not necessarily the intent. The wording was off, and something in Rose told her that saying that this thing she was sensing meant them anything, harm or otherwise, was wrong.

She had to give an answer though, the look of fear and worry on Jade's face told her as much, so she settle for the only thing she knew to be true. “It might do us harm whether or not it means to.”

Somehow they managed to reach the airport without incident. As usual they were rushed unceremoniously through security and customs without even having to surrender Rose's knitting needles, and were immediately escorted to the sleek white jet that was waiting for them on the tarmac. Once inside Rose and Jade were seated across from a woman with black hair in a tight bun at the base of her neck, in the full ceremonial uniform of a high-ranking US Navy officer. Her hat was sitting in her lap with her hands folded on top of it, and like the soldier who had woken them she too was unfamiliar.

“Hello girls,” she greeted them brightly, her smile exposing all the weathered lines of her face. “I imagine the two of you have some questions.”

“That remains to be seen,” said Jade, sitting stiff-backed on the cushioned seat with Rose beside her, and the woman's smile faltered in her obvious confusion.

Though she didn't show it on her face, Rose inwardly smiled. She did love it when Jade got professional.

“You are going to explain,” Jade decreed, folding her arms imperiously over her chest, “why my Beta and I were so rudely dragged out of our beds with so little warning. You are going to explain why our handler abandoned us in a location where few to no other personnel are aware of our circumstances. You are going to explain what is so god-damned important that we are being recalled to the US on such short notice, and if, at the end of your explanation, either of us have any questions at all, it will be because you have utterly failed at your job, which as far as I'm concerned is grounds to have you dishonorably discharged.”

It was rather comical the way the woman's eyes bugged out, her mouth slipping open as she stared at the teenager in front of her. Rose had to admit, it was amusing, and though she was careful not to ruin Jade's carefully constructed impression of righteous indignation it put her in much higher spirits.

“Um,” started the Navy woman, clearly flustered. “He, that is to say your handler, returned to California to confirm the, uh, development that necessitated this recall in person. He didn't want to alar-, or, that is, inconvenience, either of you until he was sure that the information was good.”

She paused, breathing deeply through her nose, but Jade raised an eyebrow to signal that she was nowhere near finished.

“He left on the first available flight when the news came in,” she continued, “and you were woken up as soon as we heard back from him. I'm sorry if the officer I sent to retrieve you was discourteous-”

“He did not even knock,” Rose informed her, and the woman nodded shakily to acknowledge her.

“I merely sent him to bring you to the terminal. I, um, thought that you would prefer to be briefed on the plan.”

Rose did not doubt that Jade, like her, saw straight through the lie. The idiot had obviously thought to increase their curiosity by making them wait, and make herself look impressive when she filled them in. A quick glance in Jade's direction confirmed that she looked suitably unimpressed.

“The, uh, development that warranted such immediate attention came from the Department of Celestial Communications, which was created to monitor the channels we had discovered were used by the Alternian Fleet. Those channels have been dead for over fifty years, but as of last night there has officially been an uptick in activity.”

She paused again, glancing at her folded hands nervously. “Also, some recent scans of the outer reaches of our solar system, using salvaged alien technology, have revealed a . . . presence, entering the system.”

Rose and Jade glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Jade's face was set, still intent on remaining professional, but it was Rose's job to know everything about her mark and she could see the ghost of a look in Jade's eyes meant that she was scared. The feeling, Rose thought as she struggled to force down the sensation of icy panic that none the less failed to quell the heat behind her eyes, was mutual.

“Now, this could mean nothing,” the woman said hurried, “it could be some kind of abnormality, a disturbance completely unrelated to anything . . . extraterrestrial.”

“We wouldn't have been recalled to California over nothing,” said Rose doubtfully. Again, the woman nodded to acknowledge her.

“Is there anything else you'd like to know?” she asked nervously.

Rose raised an eyebrow. “Your name?” she demanded.

The Navy woman blanched. “Commander Wright, ma'am.”

“The transparent attempt to inflate your own ego by making us wait for information that should have been given before we left will be reported to your immediate superior as soon as we land,” Jade informed her coldly. “Beyond that, draw the curtain on this section of the plane and leave us be.”

Commander Wright looked satisfactorily ready to cry and did immediately as she was told, allowing Rose to take her seat across from Jade as the plane prepared for take-off.

“Is this it Rose?” Jade asked once they were in the air, looking at the window with vacant eyes. “Is this what you've been sensing? Is this what your powers have been telling you is coming?”

Rose waited for Jade to look at her. Then, slowly and deliberately, she nodded. Jade turned away, one hand coming to cover her mouth as though to stop herself from throwing up or screaming as tears sprang to her bright green eyes. She looked about as bad as Rose felt; like her stomach was turning, like her heart was frozen with fear.

“What are we going to do Rose?” she asked once she had gotten herself under control. “I feel like I have to scream or I'm going to explode.”

“Don't scream,” Rose advised her placidly. “There's a chance you might spook the pilot into crashing us into the ocean, and it seems the world can't really afford to lose either of us at the moment.”

Jade laughed, a little burst of sound like a sob, and Rose afforded herself a small smile in echo the trembling upward tilt of Jade's lips. “We're going to return home,” Rose told her evenly. “We're going to be reunited with the others. Something, and we don't know what that something is yet, is going to happen. And when it does we're going to deal with it, together, as a family. But before we do anything else, worry about anything else, we're going to go home.”

The was a momentary pause as Jade looked at her, face ashen and blinking back tears. Then she nodded shortly and took a deep, shuddering breath through her nose.

“Yes,” she sighed, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes.“Yes, let's go home.”

\--The Imperial Flagship--

Karkat stood in line with his fellow Dignitaries, looking up at the screen that showed clearly that they were within range of Earth. In front of them sat the Empress in the captain's seat, shoulders squared and back straight, arms spread out to rest on the sides of the great bowl-like chair, and behind them stood a row of the ship's highest ranking adult officers, all violets and purples. The ship was far enough that they wouldn't be seen with the naked eye, but close enough that their best estimation of even the most basic human equipment would be able to detect them. Feferi had insisted that for the moment they would wait to see if they would be hailed from the planet. They were to make no attempt to hide themselves, and allow the humans to make contact on their own terms.

Karkat thought this was a bit ridiculous, given that they were rather forcing the issue just by showing up in orbit around their planet, but no one had asked him.

He wasn't sure what to expect, actually. Alright so he knew that a ten-eyed, five-armed intelligent barkbeast wasn't going to appear on the screen when the connection was established, but he was still curious as to what they would look like. Would their skin be gray, like a troll's? What kind of horns would they have? How old would the ones working communications be, and would their blood colors show in their eyes? What if their blood was some weird color, like bright orange or pastel pink?

They hadn't been waiting long when the ceruleanblood seated in front of the control panel for the communication systems looked up from her board of switches, dials and little screens to look expectantly at Feferi.

“We're being hailed, your Kindliness,” she said, indicating a flashing green light on the panel in front of her.

Feferi closed her eyes briefly and took one last deep breath, then nodded.

Whatever Karkat had been expecting, it was not the awful, screeching noise that filled the whole bridge at that point. For one horrible moment as the whole room covered their ears Karkat thought that the noise was human speech, but then the screeching gave way to obvious static and he remembered that they'd spent the entire journey practicing the particular Earth dialect that Colonel Sassacre and his immediate subordinates had spoken. The screen in front of them didn't change, kept showing their position relative to the planet, instead of displaying a visual of the other end of the conversation. Karkat could have kicked himself; of course their technology wasn't advanced enough to establish a visual connection. At last encounter they hadn't even had the technology to build viable spaceships, let alone communication equipment for one. He felt like an idiot, and oddly disappointed at the idea that if they were turned away now, he would never actually get to see a human.

The voice, when it came, was male, and sounded distinctly adult. It was gruff, though whether that was because of the static or not it was impossible to tell, and with the poor quality of the connection he sounded very far away.

“This is the US National Aeronautics and Space Administration Department of Celestial Communications. Unknown spacecraft, you are hereby ordered to identify yourself.”

Orphaner Lemniscate bristled slightly, perhaps at the word 'ordered,' but luckily it was not his place to answer.

“This is the IAS Radiance, Flagship of the Imperial Fleet of the Alternian Empire,” Feferi replied, still looking at the ceruleanblood's workstation, and not for the first time Karkat found himself impressed and even a little envious at the clear, confident strength in her voice.

There was a pause at the other end, then the human continued, a bit slower and more cautiously than before. “My name is General Victor Whiting. Who is this I am addressing?”

Despite the fear Karkat knew must be coursing through her system, Feferi's face softened into the kind, benevolent smile he had come to associate with her alone.

“I am Her Imperious Kindliness Feferi Peixes, Commander of this ship and Empress of the Alternian Empire.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the connection. It seemed that the whole room was holding it's breath, but Karkat knew it was probably just himself and the other Dignitaries. Lemniscate glared at the little green light, glowing steadily now that the connection was stable, but he kept darting dark looks at Feferi every now and then, like it was her fault the human wasn't answering.

Karkat wanted to snap and growl at him until he wiped that evil look off his face, but he held still.

When the human's voice returned it had a different quality than before. It was still cautious, but not as strong, like he really didn't want to be saying what he was saying.

“What has brought the Alternian Empire here? Why have you returned to this planet?”

“A mission of peace,” Feferi assured him, and Karkat knew she hadn't missed his unspoken question of whether they had come back to finish what they started. “The Alternian Empire has come under new leadership since our last visit here. I wish to make amends for the destruction wrought by my ancestor, Her Imperious Condescension. I would like to respectfully request an audience with your leader, Colonel Sassacre, and any other representatives that he as Earth's ruler deems necessary.”

There was another, shorter pause. Then-

“We need a moment to deliberate, if you please,” said the human in a rush, and then the connection went dead.

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, whispers began making their way around the room. No one seemed quite sure how to take this. They had expected to not be believed. They had expected to be turned away. They had expected to be blasted out of the sky with their own technology. No one had expected to be asked to wait.

Feferi turned to the line of Dignitaries.

“What do you suppose that means?” she asked in a whisper, eyes wide and fearful. “Do you think that means that he isn't going to hear me out?”

“I'm sure someone's just gone to alert him of the situation,” Eridan assured her, though he did not sound nearly as confident as usual.

“What if he refuses to talk to me?” Feferi protested, just this side of panicked. “What if he hates me because of what the Condesce did to his planet?”

“Then that's his fucking loss isn't it!'” Karkat snapped, making Feferi turn to face him instead. Seeing the slight fuchsia sheen on both her eyes made him lower his voice. “Look, if he won't see you then he won't see you, alright? You aren't to blame for what your ancestor did. You're trying to set right all the shit that she fucked up, and if he can't see that then he's not the great leader everyone fucking thinks he is.”

“I am certain that he will hear you, your Grace,” said Orphaner Lemniscate smoothly. “Your aim is to construct a peaceful relationship with his planet: I am sure that is something he can appreciate.”

Feferi nodded, and relaxed somewhat into her chair, though she still looked worried.

After a moment the ceruleanblood turned back to the empress. “We're being hailed your Kindliness. Again.”

Feferi nodded to her, once more giving her assent to establish the connection.

There was less static this time, and the gruff voice became clear much faster. “I regret to inform you that your request is impossible ma'am.”

Feferi's eyes widened in alarm, but before she could protest the human continued.

“It is impossible, I'm afraid, because the Colonel is no longer with us. He died, more than twenty years ago.

Sollux looked at the floor, doing a quick conversion in his head, then held up nine fingers, indicating that it would have been approximately nine sweeps ago.

Feferi's eyebrows knit together in confusion, and the Dignitaries all began looking at each other in alarm. Dead? How could that be? They'd spent their entire journey fearing some all-powerful god-creature, a horrorterror in trollish form, only to arrive and find he'd been dead long before they departed?

At last the Empress shook her head as though to clear it, turning back to the panel. “Then I would like to request an audience with his descendant.”

“His descendants?” repeated the human at the other end in apparent confusion.

“Yes,” Feferi confirmed, nodding decisively even though he couldn't see her,“his descendants. The heir, or heirs, as the case may be, to his blood and his power. I, Empress of Alternia, respectfully request an audience.”

There was another long pause, during which Karkat might have started to think the human was rather slow, if confusion hadn't rendered them equally speechless moments earlier. Perhaps whatever laws governed Earth decreed that the Colonel's descendants were too young to assume power? Or that they weren't allowed to engage with other rulers directly? Possibilities chased each other around inside his think-pan, each one seemingly less likely than the last.

“We will need some time to arrange this,” the human answered, finally. “Twenty-four hours to make preparations and gather the necessary personnel. We will send you coordinates, and you may land one hour prior to that meeting time.”

“That is acceptable,” Feferi told him, nodding decisively again, and the connection went dead once more.

Feferi turned immediately to her friends, grinning excitedly and very nearly rising up on her knees to look at all of them. “We're doing it!” she squealed, taking in the equally bright grins all down the line. “We're actually doing it!”

“We're really gonna pull off this whole peace thing,” said Sollux, as though actually considering the possibility of success for the first time.

“And we will not have to face that pawsitively furightful human,” Nepeta added, clapping her hands gleefully.

“While it would not behoove a member of the highest rank in the empire to show fear, I must agree with Nepeta,” Equius added, dabbing at his face with one of the white and blue handkerchiefs that Kanaya had made him along with his uniform. “That is quite a relief.”

Orphaner Lemniscate listened to all of their excited babbling without comment, then finally turned to the Empress. “Your Illustriousness,” he interjected, “do you intend to comply with these terms?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Feferi asked, nonplussed, pausing the celebration to stare at him.

“Why, because Colonel Sassacre is dead,” he pointed out, as though it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “The greatest danger we had feared has been removed. Do you truly intend to continue this negotiation now that the threat has been neutralized?”

“Of course silly!” Feferi chided him, no real heat behind her words as she stifled a giggle. “How can you even think of disrespecting our new human friends!”

The Orphaner bowed slightly, a serene smile fixed upon his face. “Of course,” he said, almost cheerfully, but his eyes were so narrow they were almost shut.

Feferi went back to the talk amongst the Dignitaries, all proclaiming their relief at not having to face the Colonel, their excitement at having secured a meeting, their eagerness to move forward with their plans. Karkat, however, continued to watch the Orphaner, carefully out of the corner of his eye. As he watched, the older troll placed his hands behind his back, still watching the Empress closely. Once he was certain that she wasn't looking, he gripped one wrist with the other hand and curled two of his fingers in a sort of beckoning gesture. He did it twice more, for a total of three times, then dropped his hands back to his sides.

The movement of one of the doors to the bridge opening drew Karkat's eye, and he turned just in time to see another adult officer, a purpleblood subjuggulator, whipping around the corner out of sight.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IAS stands for Imperial Alternian Ship, in the same vein as USS (United States Ship) and HMS (His/Her Majesty's Ship). It seemed wrong just to call it “The Radiance,” when the next thing I was typing was Feferi's title.


End file.
